


Life and Death on a Space Station

by Xenobotanist



Series: Prisoners to Parents [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bottom Elim Garak, Bottom Julian Bashir, Canon-Typical Violence, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian Culture, Companionable Snark, Discussion of Abortion, Dominion War (Star Trek), Dubious Science, Eggpreg, Explicit Sexual Content, Found Family, Heavy Angst, M/M, Moving In Together, Section 31 (Star Trek), Top Elim Garak, Top Julian Bashir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian and Garak try to negotiate life during the Dominion War while hiding Garak's unplanned pregnancy.Occasional fluff, but lots of heavy stuff.Sequel to Imprisoned.
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko/Kasidy Yates, Jadzia Dax/Worf, Julian Bashir & Jadzia Dax, Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Keiko O'Brien/Miles O'Brien, Kira Nerys/Odo
Series: Prisoners to Parents [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780357
Comments: 23
Kudos: 121





	1. Recuperation

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This picks up right after Imprisoned ends, sometime around Season 6, Episode 17. If you haven’t read that first, I recommend doing so.

Garak sat on the bottom bunk in the last remaining quarters on the Defiant. Beside him, Julian was splayed out on his back, legs dangling from the side of the bed. They both knew they needed to rest and recuperate, but at the moment, it was too difficult to let go of all the tension that had built while they were held prisoner. It hadn’t been that long ago that they were escaping a Jem’Hadar ship being blasted by Klingons.

Once the Defiant was out of harm’s way, they’d been rushed to the infirmary. As the CMO for Deep Space Nine, Julian had performed a quick exam for himself and Garak, declaring them both the picture of health, except for malnutrition, dehydration, and—in the doctor’s case—being rather banged up. Captain Sisko had ordered Lieutenant Dax to oversee the examination for bureaucracy’s sake, but he trusted Dr. Bashir to make the final call.

With Jadzia looking over his shoulder the whole time, Julian tried his best to remain professional with Garak and not check anything other than the absolute minimum of his life signs. The Defiant probably wasn’t secure anyway. He’d have to save any further, deeper analyses for their return to Deep Space Nine. So, as it was, he could only inform Garak that his temperature had dipped two degrees below normal and send him to the newly-appointed quarters.

The Trill lingered to help Julian heal his numerous wounds. He gratefully shrugged off his tattered shirt and consigned it to the recycler. Jadzia blanched at the marks covering his torso. “Julian, oh my gosh! I didn’t realize it was so bad. Here, let me help.” She confiscated the dermal regenerator and scanned his front and back, uncertain on where to begin. Her expression took an even more serious tone. “Did you say you were in hand-to-hand combat?” she asked tentatively.

“Er, yes. Twice.”

Her gaze flickered over his chest and shoulders, then up to his face, and back down again. She covered her mouth. Setting down the device for a moment, she reached out a hand and found there wasn’t a safe place to put it. “I can help you with healing these cuts and bruises. But Julian… you’re going to need to see a counselor, too.”

He tried to hold in a sigh. “I’ve been a prisoner before. And for much longer.” He pressed his lips together and took a moment. “Although I’ve never killed anyone with my bare hands before, so there is _that_ , I suppose.”

Jadzia’s eyes widened. “Did you kill the person who gave you… these?” She motioned to his neck, his shoulders, his arms. He knew about the gash on his collarbone, but he hadn’t exactly had access to a mirror yet to see the extent of the damage. He reached over and grabbed the nearest padd, tapping on the camera function to get a view of himself. Oh. His neck and shoulders were peppered with bite marks and perfectly round discolorations. His arms had beaded-bracelet designs of finger-sized bruises encircling them.

At first he was amused, then horrified as he realized what conclusions she’d drawn. “Ahhh.... That isn’t what you think.”

She blinked in confusion, but quickly picked up on the fact that he was blushing and ducking his head in embarrassment. “Hmm. Should I be congratulating you, then?”

His stomach dropped straight through the floor and out into space. How could she have put together—oh wait, she didn’t. She was only referring to the evidence of amorous activity _._ “Um, maybe? Can we talk about it some other time?”

“Of course, Julian.” She hoisted the regenerator again. “Where shall we start?”

=-=-=

He’d wanted to keep a few of the marks. Maybe a hickey on the neck or the fingerprints on an arm. Some evidence of Garak forgetting himself in the throes of passion. But he knew that would be inviting questions into something he wasn’t willing to address yet. Not with superiors, not even with friends. And so he reported to his quarters unblemished and feeling vaguely guilty that he’d removed all traces of their time together.

Garak was there already, seated at the console and reviewing the logs from their rescue. But to his surprise—and pleasure—the Cardassian shut off the screens and turned around.

“Hello, Doctor. It’s so good to see you on the mend.” He motioned to the bunks. “Please, make yourself at home. I was just about to retire.”

Julian sat down on the bottom bunk. Fatigue fell over him all at once as Garak settled down beside him. They’d been ordered to spend the return journey resting, recuperating, and eating. But for the moment, the two of them weren’t willing to attempt much beyond exchanging oxygen for carbon dioxide.

He wanted to lean on his friend’s shoulder. Wanted to talk about when they’d been through, what it meant for them, what the future held. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a jaw-cracking yawn.

Garak huffed. “My sentiments exactly, my dear. What do you say we call it a night?”

Julian checked the chrono on the wall, relieved to finally have one. “What do you know, it actually is night.”

=-=-=

When he woke several hours later, the first thing Julian did was look for Garak. He was nowhere to be seen, and panic reared up. Not again! Where did they take him? What would they do to him?

It took a full minute for him to fully rise into consciousness and realize that he was in the Defiant and not the Jem’Hadar prison cell. And that Garak was most likely below him, in the bottom bunk.

He hurried down as quietly as possible in an effort not to wake the man. He should have known better. Garak always slept in a state of hyper-vigilance, waking at the faintest hint of movement. The blue eyes peering inquisitively at him in the darkness nearly glowed. “Garak,” he breathed, legs weak. He fell to his knees, collapsing onto the side of the bed, head landing on a blanket-covered hip, arms under him.

“Julian,” Garak’s warm voice replied. The use of his name helped ground him. He reached up, tugging free a gray hand to hold. “You’re safe. We’re safe,” he assured the trembling figure. A squeeze of the hand. “As safe as one could be in the middle of a war, anyway.” They remained still for a moment until Garak tutted. “You hardly look comfortable like that.”

Was that an invitation? Julian chose to treat it as such. He lifted the blanket and slid in. Resisting the urge to wrap himself around his companion like a Bajoran _semba_ vine around a _kosir_ tree, he settled for aligning his body parallel to Garak’s, lying on his side. “You’re right. This is _far_ more comfortable.”

Garak tried to remain aloof, but a quick smile stole through. “It _is_ warmer.”

Julian draped an arm across his chest and leaned in. “How much warmer would you like to be?”

He couldn’t decipher the sound that came from the back of Garak’s throat; it might be amusement, or annoyance, or any number of things. “My dear Doctor. I’ll have you know that my first objective is a very long, very thorough… sonic shower.” Julian huffed. “I believe we should both avail ourselves of the facilities before we offend the entire crew with our… _aroma_.”

Julian bowed his head, peeking through the eyelashes of his lowered lids. “Oh no. Not yet.”

Garak’s frown suggested disapproval, but his expanding pupils spoke otherwise.

Julian trailed one finger down a neck ridge, watching in rapt fascination as scale after scale flushed blue. “Here we are, alone in an… _almost_ adequate bed. We’ve eaten our fill and slept soundly, but we’ve yet to… really… _appreciate_ our freedom.”

Garak’s breathing was unsteady, almost gasping, as Julian traced the scalloped pattern with his tongue. There should have been a moan. But he could feel how the body next to him clenched, restraining any sign of weakness.

“I was serious, you know.” Garak said conversationally.

“What’s the point in cleaning up if we’re going to come back here and just getting dirty again?”

“You really are a wanton creature.”

Julian hummed. Nipped. “Shameless.”

Garak squirmed. “You’re very persistent.”

“I believe it’s one of my better traits.” He traced the other side of the neck with his fingers, pinching slightly.

There was a quick, shallow intake of breath as Garak twitched. His eyes darted back and forth at the shelf above them. “This bed seems a bit… _small_ , doesn’t it?”

Julian paused his ministrations to lift up and regard his bedmate. “We could move to the floor. We know it’s tried and true.” He traced an aural ridge. “Although I’ve never known you to pass up a challenge.”

Garak tilted his head coquettishly. “You, my dear, are so transparent as to hardly constitute a challenge.”

True, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to _be_ a challenge, so he didn’t mind that. But Garak _always_ was, so Julian played along. “Oh sure, we can leave the bed if you’re really set on it. But you’re forgetting where we are. As soon as you step out of this bunk, the air’s going to drop ten degrees. And the floor is even _colder._ ” He grinned wolfishly.

Garak knew he was beat. But he wouldn’t concede easily. “Well, how would I know, since you’re preventing me from leaving?”

Julian rolled onto his back and flung out an arm, offering to let Garak out _over_ him. “Be my guest.”

Garak obliged, rolling over to cross the human. Just as he shifted his weight, a leg hooked around his while his mouth came crashing down into Julian’s. They’d trapped each other, it seemed.

Their limbs entangled as they came together, lips crushing as tongues fought for entrance to already parted mouths. Julian ran one hand through Garak’s hair as the other squeezed a ridge along his neck, stuttering as the Cardassian bit into his jaw and a hand snaked up beneath his shirt. In no time, all clothes were being shucked and flung off in their desperation to touch skin to scale. They rolled back and forth, tussling half-heartedly for dominance, almost tumbling from the bed twice. As Julian was bowled into the wall, he winced.

“Careful there, I’m mending a broken rib.”

Garak rolled onto his back, pulling Julian on top of him. They both groaned as their erections rub against each other, dry supple leather to slick ridges. Their breathing grew ragged as their lips covered jaws, necks, ears, then met again eagerly, thrusting their hips together in abandon. The fever pitch became erratic as they drew near the precipice when suddenly Garak hitched his hips just so, and on the next down-stroke Julian slid inside. Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids as the wet heat embraced him. He pumped in and out, his whole body turning to molten pleasure as they rocked together.

“Julian, look at me.” He opened his eyes and found a dark blue gaze locked onto him. He came in a sudden surge from his groin to his head, making him dizzy and cry out, nearly sobbing in relief. Garak followed as golden fingers dug into the gray arms. “Julian, oh Julian…” he whispered over and over.

=-=-=

After another few languid hours of rest, Julian woke again, sated but sore. He crooked his arm, bending his elbow into the mattress so he could set his head in his hand. It was a testament to their exhaustion that Garak didn’t snap into awareness the moment Julian shifted. A wave of dopamine and oxytocin washed over him as he silently adored the sleeping features. He studied the face before him, resisting the urge to trace each line, bump, and ridge. He’d thought he knew that face, before. But during their incarceration, he’d discovered so much more. That the central scute over his right eye was larger than the one over the left. His chufa wasn’t perfectly symmetrical. The tiny bumps that formed his nasal ridge were different lengths. He could stare at that face forever and never grow tired of it. He ducked his head, trying to contain the emotion that threatened to overflow. “I love you,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed the fluff, because the next chapter is a little rough.


	2. Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW/TW: Discussions concerning abortion

They’d agreed to meet back in the infirmary after breakfast. Julian took one look at the resolute man sitting on the biobed and felt sick. He braced himself. “Well, first, I suppose, we should verify that… ah…” 

Garak nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Lie back please. I’ll set the tricorder to scan but not store any files.”

Face tense, Garak settled back. Julian made a few sweeps across his abdomen, not sure where he should be looking. But it became clear soon enough. Front and center was a small but visibly swollen organ. He adjusted the settings, and the screen zoomed in. A small mass had attached itself to the wall of the organ. Julian tried to study it with clinical detachment, but his face must have given something away, because Garak pushed him back and sat up.

“I’d like to get this taken care of as soon as possible.”

Julian fell back like he’d been punched in the stomach. “I thought you were going to take some time to think about it.”

“Doctor, I  _ have _ given it a great deal of thought. The product of a hormonal imbalance forced upon me during incarceration is not something I take lightly.” His voice softened. “It is also not something I wish to carry with me longer than necessary.”

“Garak.” Julian made a few noises that weren’t quite words. “We don’t have the resources on board to do this safely.”

Garak’s mouth turned down. “I find it implausible that you can perform major surgeries in the heat of battle but not a minor procedure such as this.”

“For _humans_ and _Trills_. And Vulcans and Klingons to some extent. The Defiant’s infirmary was designed with Federation species in mind. I’ve added as much as I can for our allies. But beyond the medical database that Tain supplied me with, there just isn’t a lot we can do for Cardassians. Honestly, Garak, if anything worse than what we’ve already experienced were to happen to you, I don’t know that I’d be able to fix it.”

Garak digested this information. “It would seem that I overestimated my worth to the Federation. And the Captain.”  _ And maybe even you.  _ His tone sounded as if it were only a minor inconvenience, but Julian could sense the hurt and bitterness beneath.

Garak stared up at the ceiling. “Fine. Then just remove the entire organ. It’s not as if I’ll ever need it again. Cardassians have it done all the time. I’m sure you can at least manage that.”

Julian staggered back. He wished he had something to grab onto, something other than the man sitting in front of him. Physically within reach, but so, so far away otherwise. He stepped to the side, intending to read the screens on his medical console. But they all blurred before him. He felt himself fall forward and grabbed blindly at the panel. “I can’t—I can’t  _ do _ this right now.”

“And yet you expect me to.”

“That’s not the same and you bloody damn well know it! I’m not asking you to carve me open and cut away—” his voice broke. “To cut out…” He could feel his arms shaking as they held him up. If he didn’t leave, he was going to begin throwing fists into medical equipment or dissolve into a puddle on the floor, and neither of those options was going to change a thing. He shoved off, avoiding Garak completely, and fled the room.

=-=-=

Julian spent the remaining hours of the return journey in an empty crew quarters, loathe to return to the infirmary or risk running into anyone else. Fortunately, they gave him space and let him be.

As soon as they arrived back at Deep Space Nine, he assured the captain that he would get more rest, eat well, and write up his report about the incident. He retreated to his quarters, where he spent the first three hours pacing, then sitting and staring at the bulkhead, and finally just bawling into the side of the couch.

=-=-=

He woke with a start. The chrono showed that he’d been passed out for a little over two hours. The door chimed. That must have been what woke him. “Come—come in.” He hastily wiped at his crusted eyes and patted absently at his hair. He froze when he saw who entered.

Garak stepped in, but stopped just inside the door. He looked around uncertainly. “Doc-Julian. May I..?” he gestured to a chair, and Julian nodded numbly.

They regarded each other in silence for several tense minutes. Julian got up, replicated a raktajino, and returned to the sofa. He wrapped his hands around it while he worked up the courage to say what needed to be said.

“Elim, if this were up to me… I’d want to keep…” he swallowed, motioned to the Cardassian’s midsection. “To keep… this.” He took a sip, glad that Garak didn’t interrupt. “And not just because I’m a doctor and it would make a fascinating medical study. Because I love you, and I could learn to love this extension of you, and of me. I believe we could make it work.” Garak stared at the carpet. “But it’s not me, is it? It’s  _ your _ body and your choice. It’s not just my life but  _ yours _ that would be affected.  _ You’re _ the one who would have to carry it.” How long would it be carried? How would it be birthed? But that didn’t matter now. He scooted over on the couch until he was as close as he dared. “As a doctor, I fully support whatever you choose to do.” The gray head lifted, haunted pale eyes intent. “But as your lover, as a potential  _ father,”  _ his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, “I don’t know if I can end it. I know that’s what you want, and that I’m the only one who’s even aware of what happened, which means I’m the only one who  _ can _ do it. But I need time, Elim. I need time.”

Garak bowed his head. “I appreciate your candor. It seems I have no choice but to wait.” He stood up. “But I  _ do _ intend to end this, Julian. And if you take too long, or change your mind altogether, I will find a solution on my own.” He took a step and reached out a hand as if to touch his shoulder, then withdrew it. 

As soon as the door shut, Julian called up his records from the infirmary. It was rubbing salt in an open wound, he knew that, but he did it anyway. He extracted the video feed from the Jem’Hadar infant that had been brought to the station several years ago. He watched Captain Sisko cradle it in his arms, turning to mush as he stroked and cooed over the baby. Julian and Jadzia stood in the background, amused by Ben’s actions. And then the captain had passed it to  _ him.  _ Julian paused the video, picturing the baby in his arms with the same skin tone but a few more ridges. Longing washed over him, followed closely by pain. 

He cleared the screen and moved on to updates on the Teplan blight. The stricken planet was making a slow recovery. The younger generation, anyway. They’d be born free of the plague, free to remake their world. He remembered a baby there, too. A flawless, smooth, perfectly healthy baby that had cried lustily as its mother faded away. 

A legacy. It hadn’t been his child. He may never have one of his own. He hadn’t started a life, but he’d  _ ensured  _ life where before there had been only agony and death. He told himself it was enough. 

=-=-=

Julian did everything in his power to avoid running into Garak in the following days. He walked the long way to the infirmary for each shift. He took lunch in his office. If Miles wanted to have a drink, he’d only agree to meeting in one of their quarters. His friend knew he was struggling, and offered—in his own gruff way—to lend an ear. Julian let him think he was still recovering from his entrapment by the Dominion. He couldn’t betray Garak’s confidence by explaining the crux of the matter, and it wouldn’t even be an issue shortly. 

He threw himself into his work, pulling 14-hour shifts six days a week until Nurse Bandee threatened to tell Captain Sisko that he was overworking. But no matter how much he tried to focus on medical reports, bacterial samples, and even the endless amounts of paperwork, his mind kept swinging back around to Garak. Garak when they first met. Garak with him in the cell. Garak carrying an egg. 

When the nurse told him he had a visitor, he half-expected it to  _ be _ Garak. But it was Odo. The constable entered his office, taking a seat. That was unusual; he usually preferred to stand and pace.

“Doctor Bashir, I’m here to talk to you about Garak.” Julian squeezed the arms of his chair. Of course he was. “I think that he is experiencing some sort of health crisis. He has stopped taking breakfasts and lunches in public and never leaves his shop except at the end of the day. I stop in regularly, and twice now I’ve caught him arguing with the replicator. He doesn’t seem happy with any of the food it produces.” Odo looked amused. “When I suggested one of his favorite dishes that I remembered him eating regularly when we used to meet in the mornings, he turned almost… yellow.” Odo shook his head. “I know that you two are friends, but Garak has a habit of—shall we say—concealing things.” Julian rolled his eyes. “I thought you might not be aware of these circumstances, but would appreciate being notified. Especially given that you were present with him during the imprisonment, and might have some insight into what is bothering him.”

Julian nodded, trying to smile unconcernedly. “Quite right, Odo. Thank you. I’ll see what I can do to get to the bottom of this.”


	3. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak get by with a little help from their friends.  
> (now you can have that song stuck in your head too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to throw out some hacking gibberish, but who knows what technology will be like 300 years in the future, so there we go.

After dinner, Julian returned to the infirmary, sitting down at one of the all-access consoles. One that wouldn’t be automatically associated with the CMO, because anyone could use it. He laced his fingers and stretched his palms outward, cracking a few knuckles. Okay, so he was doing this. During one of their many spy-themed conversations, Garak had explained to him how to break into a Cardassian video feed. It had all been hypothetical, of course. A game. “If I were to spy on a Cardassian, here’s what I would do…”

He knew that by now, Garak should be back in his quarters. He probably wouldn’t be monitoring his shop. ‘Probably’ being the operative word. He established a connection with the emergency backup system, posing a few inquiries that caused it to launch a small sweep of the communications relay. He then hopped aboard the sweep and jumped off at the video files. He was in. He was able to access three of the cameras in the display room. The storage room must have its own feed. He linked the connection to the infirmary monitoring system, concealing the access with a few probably-illegal codes. Now he could check up on Garak regularly without crowding him.

=-=-=

It didn’t take long to realize his action was a mistake. Monitoring Garak had backfired spectacularly. Julian found himself checking the feed at least once an hour, analyzing every move and facial expression, or sometimes just watching the tailor concentrate on his work. He destroyed a sample in the centrifuge watching the tailor apply sequins by hand to a formal dress. 

The more he saw, the more he wanted to  _ be _ there. He told himself that he was searching for signs that Garak was unhappy. That as soon as he could tell the Cardassian was upset or in pain, he’d find the courage to take the necessary steps to end the pregnancy. 

But he knew he was lying to himself. 

To his surprise, Garak was hardly ever alone. Odo increased his visits to twice a day, always courteous but ever watchful. The visits seemed almost social at times, extending into half-hour conversations sometimes. Captain Sisko dropped off a vest, and when he picked it up, he brought along Kasidy, who appeared to commission something, if that’s what all the measuring meant. Even Major Kira stopped by. One afternoon, she dropped in during lunch with a bowl of frozen alvas. She offered one to Garak, who apparently relished the Bajoran fruit. She watched in bemusement as they chatted and he finished off the bowl. She began to frequent the shop during lunch time, always with more alvas, and Julian found himself immensely jealous.

He’d expected Garak to be annoyed with all of the intrusions. Julian was sure that he’d spent the past several years with a cutting, standoffish attitude that was a facade put in place to protect him from prejudices. But during his surveillance, Garak never once showed any signs of irritation, even after his guests left. In fact, any hints of unhappiness never seemed to manifest. 

After about a week of covert monitoring, Julian was astonished to see Miles, of all people, show up in Garak’s Clothiers. He showed the tailor something on a padd, and Garak nodded enthusiastically. But they continued to talk for some time afterward, and parted ways amicably. 

That evening, Miles called on him at home. “Do you have a kotra board?”

“Um, no. But you could replicate one, couldn’t you?” 

“Well yes. But I was going to challenge Garak, and I thought having a, you know,  _ real _ one would impress him more.”

“Oh, you mean hand-made.” The chief nodded. “When do you need it by?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Dunno. It’s just that a while back he wanted to play against me at kotra, said he thought I’d be a real challenge. And now… with you and him and…” he dropped off.

“What do you mean, me and him?”

“I don’t know what’s going on between you. Or not going on between you, but he seems… kinda… lonely. And… I dunno. Somethin’s different. He’s almost kind of friendly. It was just an idea,” he finished sheepishly.

Julian thought for a moment. “You know what, check with Major Kira. She told me there’s a whole storage bay of stuff left behind after the occupation ended and the Cardassians left the station.”

“Mmm. Thanks, I’ll do that.” Miles looked down, scuffed his boot. 

“Chief?”

“Is everything  _ okay _ , Julian? In all these years, I’ve never known ya to avoid Garak. I mean, I never really knew whatcha saw in him, but you always got along well, so who was I to stop ya?” He put his hands on his hips. “He don’t seem mad, and you don’t seem hurt, but people don’t just stop talkin’ to each other for no reason.”

It was Julian’s turn to look at the floor. “I… You’re right, Chief. But… I just can’t talk about it right now. Some of it’s classified,” he lied, “and some of it’s… rather  _ personal _ .”

The Irishman’s eyes widened only briefly before frowning and nodding. In an uncharacteristic show of physical affection, he squeezed Julian’s shoulder. “I understand if you aren’t ready to talk about it yet. But can you at least help me learn the bloody basics of kotra?”

=-=-=

Julian’s main computer was running diagnostics, he’d just completed synthesizing antigens of the most recent Bajoran cold virus to sweep the station, and there weren’t any appointments for at least an hour. Making sure Nurse Jabbara was out for lunch, he sat down with a tarkalean tea to watch Garak at work. He was towards the back of the shop, accompanied by Keiko, who was supporting Kirayoshi on one hip while holding hands with Molly. Julian switched to a closer camera. 

Garak disappeared into the back room, then emerged, carrying a box of clothing. Julian’s heart twisted when he saw what was pulled out. Baby clothes. Keiko set Kirayoshi down and let go of Molly to take a jumper and exclaim as she held it up. Garak handed her piece after piece, smiling proudly at her appreciation. Julian knew he had to be imagining it, but he could have sworn he’d seen something wistful on the man’s face.

He leaned back in his chair to glance onto the promenade, even though he couldn’t directly see the shop. When he tipped back to the screen, Keiko’s head was darting back and forth, looking for something. She hoisted Kirayoshi and started peering into racks frantically as Garak joined her search. It appeared they’d lost Molly. Julian smiled, realizing he could help out. He rewound the video until she showed up. Once he determined what direction she’d headed, he changed feeds. Ah, there.

He left the infirmary for Garak’s Clothiers. Should he pretend to just be stopping by? The fact that he hadn’t dropped by in almost two weeks might make it awkward. 

Keiko saved him from needing an excuse by calling to him from inside the shop. “Julian! Could you help us? I can’t find Molly anywhere. I’m sure she’s probably just hiding, but she won’t answer me.”

“Of course, glad to be of assistance!” He took his time making his way to a bulkhead near the back, where the wall was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. “Hmm. If I were Molly, where would I be?” he mused out loud. He listened for a giggle, but perhaps she’d grown out of that stage. He got down on one knee, peering into the dark beneath the lowest shelf. A tiny blue shoe peeked out. “Oh look, I found a clue!” He slipped the shoe off her foot, and that’s when a giggle escaped. “Keiko! I found her!” He called out.

Molly slid into the open, beaming. “I found a really good spot, huh?”

“Oh, Molly, thank goodness!” Keiko rushed over, dropping down so she could pull the girl into her arms. “You scared me, baby.” 

“I’m not a baby, Kirayoshi is.”

Keiko stood up, once again taking her daughter’s hand. “Thank you so much, Julian. I knew nothing would happen to her, but it still scared me half to death.”

Garak joined them. “How fortunate for us that you showed up when you did,” he commented drily. 

Julian shrugged sheepishly and tried to look innocent.

Garak addressed Keiko. “Since your hands are full, why don’t I have the clothing sent to your quarters? Or Chief O’Brien could pick them up later, after his shift.”

“Thank you, Garak. These two keep me on my toes.” As if to prove her point, Kirayoshi burbled, then spit up down her back. She yelped, jumping forward as it ran down the inside of her collar. Molly was pulled with her, and the mannequin that she’d been holding onto pitched forward toward the tailor.

Julian caught the toppling model quickly, but his eyes were on Garak, who had wrapped his arms around his abdomen and jumped back, doubling over. Almost like he was protecting something. Julian’s knees shook as he righted the fixture. He pretended to adjust the clothing while swallowing down the bile that had surged in the back of his throat at the possible implications of Garak’s actions. 

Keiko looked back and forth at both men, aware of a change in the mood between them. “I’ll just get out of your hair now. Have a good day, Garak. Julian. C’mon you two.”

As soon as the door slid shut, Julian turned to Garak. “So. You knew.”

“That you can’t keep your nose in your own business? I’ve known that for some years now.” The tailor crossed the shop to his main console. Julian followed. He looked over Garak’s shoulder as he pulled up a list of dates and times. It was a rather  _ extensive _ log of every time the infirmary computer linked up to the shop’s surveillance system.

“Garak, I can explain—”

“Really now, Doctor. There’s no need. If anything, I’m  _ thrilled  _ to find that you have finally put my lessons to use.” He raised his chin. “I have to admit, no one has taken such an  _ active _ interest in me in years. It was almost…  _ comforting  _ to know that someone cared enough to keep me under observation. I’m flattered.”

Stymied, Julian wavered. He could feel his own brow furrow as he tried to compose a suitable response.

Garak blanked the screen, but continued staring into the reflection on the black surface. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

No. Yes. Maybe. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“You weren’t the only one, my dear. It feels like half the station has come to see if I’m  _ ‘alright.’  _ I’ve hardly had an hour’s peace in the past two weeks.” Julian knew that was an exaggeration, but let him have it. “No doubt you’re aware that Constable Odo is now in here  _ twice _ a day. And Major Kira has begun taking lunches at my counter. She brings those ridiculous frozen alvas every time. You’d think she would get tired of them.” Julian had a feeling they were more for Garak than her. The last time he’d seen them together on the monitor, the ravenous tailor had finished the entire bowl without her touching one fruit. “The lovely Ms. Dax has brought in three outfits for me to…  _ repair _ , and each time, she remained for near on an hour just to gossip. With me. Do I seem the type to gossip? Don’t answer that. And did you know that Captain Yates actually invited me to dinner with her and the Siskos?” No, he hadn’t known that. Garak barreled on, almost petulantly. “And Chief O’Brien has challenged me to a game of kotra. Will wonders never cease? And lastly, there’s  _ Quark _ . He had Rom deliver this  _ lovely _ basket of kanar samples, with a message that he misses my patronage. Although it’s more likely he meant my latinum.” He lifted the basket, showing it to Julian. “I suppose I could regift it to Ms. Yates tomorrow evening.” The doctor in Julian noted that the basket looked untouched. He’d never known Garak to forgo kanar.

“And do you know what all of these visits had in common, dear Doctor? They were all so  _ contrived.  _ They talked about business around the station, or fashion trends, or meals, but every one of them circled back to ‘How are you doing, Garak?’ ‘You should get out more, Garak.’ ‘You look like you could use a break, Garak.’” He glanced at Julian out of the corner of his eye. “It was more than a little disconcerting.” 

“Is it such a surprise that people worry about you? That they  _ care _ for you?” Julian asked, although he supposed it was. Garak was exiled Cardassian on a station of primarily humans and Bajorans: political rivals and people his race had oppressed. And if his past stories were to be believed, there hadn’t been a lot of caring as he grew up, either.

Without any explanation or segue, Garak left him and returned to the back of the shop. He sat down on a divan that was normally filled by the partners of patrons who were trying on clothes. Hesitantly, Julian joined him. He knew intellectually that he should dread the upcoming conversation, but the eternal optimist in him pointed out that the tailor didn’t look unhappy. He just looked… thoughtful.

“You know that operatives are discouraged from forming attachments. Or families,” Garak said out of nowhere. Julian reeled from the conversational whiplash. “Sentiment is a weakness that can cause any amount of distractions. Not only that, but partners and offspring can be used as leverage over you, or held for ransom, or…  _ eliminated _ … to inflict maximum damage. When I joined the Obsidian Order, I accepted the fact that I would never have a family. My first duty was to  _ Cardassia _ , after all. And Tain was determined for me not to commit the same ‘mistakes’ as him.” He looked off into the distance. “My exile did nothing to change that. If anything, it  _ solidified _ my reality. I grew used to the idea of being alone, and remaining alone indefinitely.” 

He stood up, pacing away and then back again. The look in his eyes grew manic. “Since the Bajoran and Federation takeover of the station, I have done some of my absolute  _ worst _ . I have lied. I have deceived. I have destroyed and denied and threatened. I have killed.” He spread his arms out wide. “And after all that, you trust me. You forgive me.  _ They _ trust and forgive me. They offer me aid and companionship and so much more than I deserve. But it’s not about what I deserve is it?” He dropped his hands. “Imagine my chagrin, my  _ shame _ when I realized that none of them came here because they felt they owed me, or because it was expected of them, or even out of pity. They came because they see me as one of  _ them _ .”

Garak returned to the seat. “And if that is what the Federation has to offer, if that is what  _ you _ have to offer, then I’d be a fool to refuse it.” He reached out his hand, holding it still in the air for a moment before settling it on Julian’s. “For the first time in my life, I think I am learning what it feels like to have a family.”

An entire galaxy sprung to life inside Julian. He grabbed Garak’s hand in both of his. How he wanted to gather him in and kiss all of his pain away and assure him that everything would be fine. But the years had taught him patience and temperance. Maybe even a little wisdom. He simply squeezed the hand and waited for the tailor to finish.

“The Hebitians had a saying: ‘A flower is the product of the soil it grows in. Each of us is a flower, and our community the soil. Choose carefully where you plant your seeds.”

Julian turned the phrase over in his mind. “Terrans have a similar saying,” he offered.  _ Please _ , he begged.  _ Please let me understand him correctly.  _ “We say ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’”

Garak tipped his head, looking up as if he could see through all the floors above him. “Quite succinct. This space station… it could be likened to a village, could it not?”

Feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, Julian nodded. “I’d have to agree. I say it very much  _ is _ a village. And it’s full of people who trust and support each other. Like it or not, you’re part of that village, Garak.” He took a deep breath. “And any child born here will be, too.”

Garak looked down at their clasped hands. “I suppose one couldn’t ask for much better than a doctor for a father.”

Julian felt his mouth stretch of its own accord. “Oh, I think having a tailor for a father could come in very handy, as well.”

=-=-=

That night, they lay together in a real bed for the first time. They rested on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and staring at the ceiling, reminding Julian of sleepovers when he was young. For the time being, they were going to keep Garak’s condition a secret. But they would at least make their relationship public, despite the fact that they hadn’t really defined it yet. But that could come in time. 

Once their conversation fell quiet and they began fading, Julian rolled over on his side, facing Garak.

“Elim, can I…? May I…?” He reached out toward Garak’s abdomen.

“Oh, if you must.” 

The voice sounded aggrieved, but Julian could see a tiny pleased smile. He knew his own could probably light up the promenade.


	4. Accusation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several parts of this chapter are from Episode 6x18: Inquisition, although I did cut out or rewrite parts for brevity’s sake or to match the story.

Julian had originally been scheduled to present at a medical conference on Casperia Prime, but he canceled at the last minute. He wanted to spend as much time as possible finding ways to care for Garak, and ways to do so without being detected. Checkups and monitoring would be easy, because the logs could be erased. But if he wanted to track progress and changes, he’d need a place to store information. That would be a little trickier. He was also considering contacting someone on Cardassia--or at least someone with knowledge of the planet and its peoples--to see if they could point him to resources on what to expect during a Cardassian pregnancy. And if he was entirely honest with himself, he mostly stayed behind because he wanted to spend more time in his fledgling relationship.

The couple began to spend most evenings together when Julian wasn’t on duty, and most nights too, rotating between their two quarters. To Julian’s chagrin, no one seemed particularly astounded by their change in status, and instead treated it as a natural progression of their lengthy friendship. Odo and Sisko gave Julian the obligatory speeches about exercising caution around the exiled spy, but they came off as more exasperated--maybe amused--than concerned. Jadzia and Miles congratulated him, even if Miles did so a little reluctantly. And Nerys shocked everyone by collecting a rather substantial amount of latinum from Quark, in regards to the pool he’d maintained on the doctor and tailor for half a decade. 

=-=-=

Julian startled awake to an all-call. “This is the Captain. All senior officers report to Operations immediately.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out. Garak remained slumbering. Lucky him. Julian felt like he’d had barely any rest at all. He typed out a quick note on Garak’s bedside padd and hurriedly dressed himself.

When he reached Ops, he could see the captain and a stranger arguing in the main office. Jadzia, Worf, Miles, Kira, and Odo all stood to the side, tensely observing the interaction. Actually, Odo was staring at the two people stationed outside the office. They stood like sentries, arms crossed and legs braced.

“What’s going on?” Julian asked Miles with a yawn. 

“Internal Affairs.”

“What are they doing here?”

“They’re not saying.”

Sisko finished his conversation and strode out with the stranger following him. They took up positions just outside the door, still at the top of the stairs, looking down on Ops and everyone therein.

“All right people, this is Deputy Director Sloan of Internal Affairs,” Sisko said, enunciating each word carefully. Everyone was instantly on alert. He only spoke like that when a situation was extremely volatile and he was aggravated by having his hands tied. “He’s here under the authority of the Federation Council.” That explained it. He didn’t approve of what his superiors were pulling, but had to follow orders. “I expect you all to give him your  _ full  _ cooperation.” He stepped aside as the Deputy Director moved forward.

“Starfleet Intelligence has reason to believe that there’s been a security breach aboard Deep Space Nine. It appears that someone has been passing information to the Dominion. Until we determine the source…we have to follow standard containment procedures and isolate all members of the senior staff.”

Sisko stopped clenching his teeth to speak. “As of now, you’re  _ all _ relieved of duty and confined to quarters.”

Staring straight at Dr. Bashir to ensure his undivided attention, Sloan added, “Your  _ own _ quarters.” He then swept his gaze over the others. “You’ll be contacted shortly. I’ll be conducting interviews with each one of you. For the time being, you are  _ not _ to discuss this amongst yourselves. Any questions?” He was met with silence. 

=-=-=

Julian took in the reclining figure in front of him. The Deputy Director had removed his jacket and was sitting at the Wardroom table while reading a padd. He wasn’t seated at the head of the table, where he would be perceived as taking a dominating role; instead, he had his legs crossed and a finger pressed to his mouth while he perused something that appeared to hold his attention more than the man and woman standing before him. It was such a studied tableau of nonchalance that Julian couldn’t keep the look of disbelief off his face. Garak would have scoffed at the false display of geniality and ease.

Sloan glanced up and stared. It was only for a second before he spoke, but long enough to be disconcerting. What was he playing at? “Thank you,” he told the escort. She nodded and dismissed herself.

“Dr. Bashir!” the man said, too loudly for the silent room. “Have a seat please.” He grabbed Julian’s arm and directed him to a seat. It was as if every word and action from the man was meant to send a conflicting message. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this. It couldn’t be helped.” Julian sat, trying to figure out what the game was. Sloan settled himself on the corner of the table, hands clasped. “At least we won’t be interrupting your medical conference. I just found out that you canceled.”

“Small blessings,” Julian murmured. 

“Although I can understand your reluctance. The last time you attended one, you were taken prisoner by the Dominion.  _ Five weeks _ in a prison camp. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” He paused, prompting the doctor to respond.

Julian gritted his teeth. “Not. Pleasant.”

Sloan stood up and strolled away, then came back and returned to his seat. “And then you were taken  _ again. _ For another…” he glanced at his padd. “Eight days.” He shook his head in dismay. “What terrible luck. What are the chances, eh?” He continued before Julian could reply. “I read your reports. They made me ask myself how  _ I  _ would have held up under those conditions. I guess you never really know until you go through it,” he said, sounding progressively less sympathetic. Julian didn’t even bother with a response. Anything he said would likely be construed as cocky or falsely modest.

The rest of the meeting was just as strange, if short. The Deputy Director jumped from topic to topic, from Julian’s work with the institutionalized augments to his own long-ago desire to become a doctor. The jump from topic to topic was unnerving, although not overtly alarming. Sloan seemed to be hinting at something, but what it was, Julian couldn’t discern.

=-=-=

The situation devolved when he returned to his quarters. He was served the wrong breakfast (a little too early for gagh), his possessions had obviously been searched, and Miles warned him (illicitly) over the comm that Sloan was much more interested in him than he’d let on. And before he even had the chance to figure out what any of this meant, he was summoned back.

Sloan began to grill him over the specifics of his imprisonments with the Dominion, focusing on the time he’d spent in solitary or when Garak had been removed. He also seemed dubious about Julian’s “lucky” escapes from each location, implying that perhaps the Dominion  _ wanted _ him to escape. That’s when it became even more surreal: Sloan claimed that he’d been brainwashed into becoming a Dominion spy. That they’d broken him at some point, using his time in Camp 371 and the Jem’Hadar ship as a ruse to make contact and collect Federation secrets. 

The next thing he knew, he was cuffed and being escorted down the promenade through a crush of spectators. Julian clenched his hands, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t the only one infuriated by the turn of events; Captain Sisko looked furious. Major Kira and Quark stepped up to offer assurances that this was a mistake and they’d get him out of this. But most of the crowd that had formed just looked curious or perplexed. Towards the back, though, Garak stood. Watching.

The guards took him to the security office. Odo was gone, replaced by more of Sloan’s aids. They removed the cuffs, but only because they were putting him into a holding cell. Julian sat down to wait. He couldn’t understand. How could he be a Dominion agent? He could remember every moment spent in their possession. Never once had any captor shown interest in recruiting him. And even if they had, shouldn’t Starfleet be trying to help him escape their clutches, instead of treating him like a traitor?

He paced the tiny room. It was even smaller than the one he’d emerged from not even a week before. Someone would make sense of this. They’d figure out what was going on. That he was innocent. He’d be out soon. Wouldn’t he?

=-=-=

The next several hours grew steadily worse. Julian was taken back out for continued “questioning,” but it was mostly just a string of accusations. 

That he was sympathetic to the Jem’Hadar. Which he  _ had _ been, as a doctor who wanted to cure an addiction and free an enslaved people.

That he wanted the Federation to lose the war. Which was ridiculous.

That he wasn’t a loyal Starfleet officer. How dare they. He’d put himself into danger time and again for them, for the Federation, for the sake of saving lives. 

Julian kept turning it over in his head as Sloan barreled on. They couldn’t possibly believe that he  _ wanted _ to help the Dominion, could they? 

The answer was yes. The Director was determined to make Julian buckle. Whatever he said to the man, Sloan insisted he was either lying or repressing memories. It was worrisome and infuriating.

The worst followed not long after. Sloan informed him that he was to be taken to a starbase for further questioning, and then a maximum-security cell, citing a Starfleet directive that allowed him to “neutralize” anyone he deemed a threat to the Federation during a time of war. Unless the doctor was willing to confess to being a Dominion spy.

Julian could barely suppress his rage. That a sanctimonious bastard like the Deputy Director could concoct a cock-and-bull story with circumstantial evidence and use it to destroy his reputation, his career, his  _ future.  _ With Starfleet’s full support… It was madness. Part of Julian longed to rebel. They couldn’t do this! He’d just escaped prison and they wanted to take him right back! And what about Garak? What would happen if he wasn’t there to take care of—

A guard dropped the cell’s forcefield. Julian stepped back, unwilling to go with them. Unexpectedly, a familiar tingle flooded him as a transporter beam enveloped his body. No! It had to be Garak, trying to prevent him from being stolen away. But this wouldn’t help; it would only make it worse. “Garak, no! They’ll think I’m guilty!” 

He looked around at his new surroundings. Garak wasn’t present. Oh Prophets, no. Another Dominion ship. A Vorta stood before him, and he knew this one: Weyoun. 

“Good evening, Doctor. Welcome home. It’s time for a little… debriefing.” 

Julian shook his head incredulously. “What? No. I don’t work for you. I’m not a traitor.”

Weyoun clucked, face full of sympathy. “Traitor. Hero. Those are just words. We’ve been through this. They may call you a traitor now, but when the Federation sees how many lives you’ve saved by helping us put an end to this, you’ll be called a hero.” He gestured to a chair. “Please. Sit down.”

No. NO. Julian wasn’t going through this again. He couldn’t spend any more time under the thumb of the Dominion. He surged forward and socked Weyoun in the nose. The smug Vorta gasped, cerulean eyes impossibly wide, but Julian didn’t stop there. His fists continued to fly, hammering at the head, shoulders, chest as they tumbled to the floor. Hands scrambled at his arms, pushing ineffectively against the onslaught. But something wasn’t right, and it niggled at the back of his brain. The battered minion wasn’t crying out as he was pummeled, wasn’t yelling for guards, and there wasn’t any blood. Julian had operated on a Vorta; he knew they had blood. He stopped, leaning back, and didn’t resist as the Jem’Hadar pulled him off and Weyoun scrambled away. 

“You’re not Weyoun.” Was he a Founder disguised as a Vorta? “What’s going on? What is this?” He looked around, then back to the imposter. “I’m not talking to you.”

Everything faded. Julian staggered. He was suddenly in another room, maybe even another station or ship. The walls were silver, covered in crisscrossing bars and lights.

“Then talk to  _ me _ .” At the far end of the chamber stood Deputy Director Sloan and his lackeys. They were in… a holosuite? “Congratulations, Doctor. It’s not often that someone makes a move we hadn’t anticipated.”

Julian glared.

Sloan was no longer garbed in a Starfleet uniform. He and his… cronies?... were dressed in what Garak might have politely referred to as “black pleather.” The outfits covered them from neck to wrist and foot, and were probably meant to look intimidating, but to Julian’s jaded perspective, they just came across as pretentious. Garak would agree. Channeling the spy’s cynical and unflappable demeanor, he feigned annoyance. “What is this, Sloan? If that’s even your name.”

“I told you earlier: we believed there was a security breach in which someone was feeding information from Deep Space Nine to the Dominion.” The rugged face gave him a once-over. “But I’m no longer convinced that  _ you _ are involved.”

“Is that what all this was for?” He turned around, taking in the room. “ Has anything today been  _ real _ ?”

“That depends on how you define  _ real, _ ” Sloan replied smugly. “You, I, and these officers are  _ all _ real.” He shrugged. “The locations… less so. Everything since you woke last night has occurred here, rather than on the station.”

“ _ Last night _ ? You didn’t even let me sleep?” His brain made the connection quickly. “I bet you conduct a lot of investigations that way. It’s much easier to manipulate someone who is sleep-deprived.” And what about Garak? What had they done to him? Sedation?

“You can’t deny the efficacy, though, Doctor. A person with compromised consciousness is easier to control—whether by the Dominion or a skilled interrogator.”

From Julian’s standpoint, he couldn’t see much of a difference. “I’m assuming  _ you _ are the skilled interrogator. Who do you even work for? Not Starfleet.”

“Our official designation is Section 31. You might say we’re…  _ autonomous  _ from Starfleet. We were part of the original charter.”

“And what does Section 31 do? Apart from kidnaping officers?”

“We search out and identify potential dangers to the Federation. And then we deal with them. Quietly.” Sloan spoke genially, as if they were discussing the weather. 

His blood ran cold at the idea of being identified as a ‘potential danger.’ “So, if you determined I were an agent of the Dominion—even unwillingingly and unconsciously—I’d be… what?”

“Spending the rest of the war…  _ elsewhere _ . Out of the way. Indefinitely.”

Julian was incredulous. “If what you say to me is true.” His mind fired away, processing what had happened. “That means you—and Section 31—function as judge, jury, and executioner.” He frowned. “I think that is too much power for  _ anyone _ .”

Sloan smiled modestly and spread his hands out. “I’ll admit it takes exceptional people to do what we do. People who can sublimate their ambitions to the best interests of the Federation.” He paced as he spoke, then faced Bashir. “People like you.”

“ _ ME?” _

“You have all of the qualifications to be a  _ very _ useful member of Section 31. You’re intelligent… You’re resourceful.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always been fascinated by… covert operations. And you’ve been known to take whatever measures necessary to help others, even when it means… circumventing certain laws.”

Julian gulped. How long—and how closely—had they been following his career?

“Admit it, Doctor. We’re working for the same team. We both want what’s best for the Federation. For the  _ people _ of the Federation. And we both know that sometimes what people need means  _ not _ going through the official channels. Making difficult decisions. We do the hard work so that the ideals and foundations of the Federation remain intact.”

“And yet you  _ violate _ those ideals as a matter of course. You were just accusing me of being a traitor, and now you’re trying to  _ recruit _ me? What could you possibly expect me to say?”

“You don’t have to say  _ anything _ right now. I want you to take time to think about it. I’m confident that in the end, you’ll come around.” He nodded to the men who had stood silently in the background, watching and waiting for orders. “Good day, Doctor Bashir. I’ll be in contact.”

A hypospray hissed at his neck, and everything went black.

=-=-=

When Julian regained consciousness in his own quarters, his first priority was checking to make sure Garak was okay. He dashed through the station. Garak was just waking when Julian burst in with a tricorder. He wasn’t able to determine what substances had been used to sedate or wake the Cardassian, but neither appeared to have any harmful effects, for which he was grateful. 

The two of them met with Captain Sisko, who called in Major Kira and Odo. Julian shared everything that had transpired during his brief absence, garnering increasingly confounded and angry looks from his audience. No records could be found of a Deputy Director Sloan employed by the Federation, nor traces of the doctor being transported off and back onto the station. On the whole, it was rather frustrating. 

One thing they all agreed on: Section 31 was inestimably dangerous. Captain Sisko decided that the best way to get a better look at what was transpiring within the organization—and maybe even expose it—would be for Julian to accept Sloan’s offer if he should reappear. 

Of course, Garak agreed.


	5. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs during and after 6x19: In the Pale Moonlight. I rearranged an item or two, but nothing significant.  
> Only semi-beta'd. Sorry for any mistakes.

The Dominion War was taking a heavy toll on the Federation and its allies. With Cardassia’s help, the Founders were churning out ships and Jem’Hadar at astronomical rates. In turn, the Federation was  _ losing _ ships and Starfleet personnel at astronomical rates. Reviewing the casualty lists that Sisko posted had become a morbid tradition that happened with increasing frequency. Julian tried to view them first or last to avoid the crowds, as he only needed a second to process the information and didn’t want to appear to others as if he wasn’t really paying the list proper respect and attention.

The news continued to grow worse. In a period of only ten hours, the Dominion had taken Betazed. Its location put several systems at risk: notably Vulcan, Andor, Tellar, and Alpha Centauri. Despite his ingrained optimism, Julian found himself worrying when the information reached him. Was this really a good time to bring a child into the quadrant? He couldn’t guarantee the safety of himself, much less Garak or the station. 

Just as he had predicted (with the help of some augmented friends), the Federation was losing. Something had to be done, and he already knew what it was. When he found himself in the wardroom at the same time as Jadzia and the captain, he finally proposed a solution. Or at the least, a reprieve. “What we need to do is bring the Romulans into the war on  _ our _ side. With the combined forces of the Federation, Klingons,  _ and _ the Romulans, we could finally go on the offensive.” 

He wasn’t sure how seriously they took his statement until Jadzia approached him the next day, saying that she and Ben had talked it over. They agreed with him, but it would be a difficult endeavor, because the Romulus knew it was safe as long as it remained neutral and  _ didn’t _ fight the Dominion.

Over dinner, he brought it up to Garak, who gave it serious consideration. “You’re absolutely right, my dear. The Romulans have the resources to make a considerable dent in the Dominion forces.  _ But  _ they currently have a treaty of non-aggression. As soon as they make a move, not only are they drawn into a war, but they become an automatic target to an implacable foe. I think… I’ll look into this matter.”

Whatever Garak found, it began to take up a lot of his time and focus. He became distracted in the evenings (when he was even present) and frequently closed up his shop to work in back or leave altogether. It wasn’t until Captain Sisko called Julian into his office that he realized Garak wasn’t just gathering information; apparently, he was acting on it, and in concert with the Captain, maybe even the Federation. 

Over dinner, he sprang his questions. “Garak, what do you need with 85 mL of biomimetic gel?”

The Cardassian looked up from his meal blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that look. Ben  _ ordered _ me to give him some today. He wouldn’t say what for. But you’re involved with it, aren’t you?”

Garak set down his fork. “It’s best you don’t know, my dear. Plausible deniability, I believe is the term.”

“Do you at least know what the gel is going to be used for? Not weapons, I hope?”

“It was traded for an infinitely more valuable resource. But that’s  _ really _ all I can tell you.” He resumed eating, eager to put an end to the discussion.

Julian reached across the table to take Garak’s hand. “I’m sure they’re glad for your help. But are you okay with this? It’s not… too much, is it?”

“Too much?”

“Too stressful. It seems to be taking up a lot of your time. And you’ve been really restless at night, like you can’t relax. I’m concerned for your health.” 

Garak squeezed his hand. “I would much rather be in the thick of things than left in the dark, you know that. Besides, I’m not at all inclined to leave the fate of the quadrant up to the Federation alone,” he added tartly. “Who knows what they’d do without my assistance.”

“We’d all be floundering, no doubt,” Julian replied with a shake of his head. 

But that evening, Garak grew more serious. As they lay in bed together, Julian had once more set his hand on the still-flat abdomen of his lover. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t feel anything yet; just knowing something—some _ one _ —was there, was enough. Garak placed his hand on top of his. “Julian, how many lives have been lost in this war?”

“Too many to count accurately. Klingons, Humans, Vulcans… Cardassians, Jem’Hadar...”

“And how many  _ more _ will there be by the end?”

“I don’t know. Billions more.”

“What would you be willing to do in order to put an end to this? To stop the killing and make everyone safe again?”

Julian was reminded unpleasantly of Sloan. The question had the same tone to it. But it was also valid. What  _ would _ he be willing to do to end a war? “I… I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. 

“What about two lives? What if two deaths could turn the tide of the war? Would that be worth it?”

His mind reeled. What was being asked here? “I don’t know if I can answer that. Whose lives? How could that make such a grand difference?”

“Let me phrase it differently. What would you be willing to do to save  _ one _ life?” He tapped his belly, between Julian’s fingers. “Would the lives of two strangers be worth it, to save your son or daughter?”

=-=-=

A week later, Sisko called Julian back into this office. 

“Doctor Bashir, we’re going to need you to gather everything you can on Romulan physiology and add it to your medical database, both here and on the Defiant. As of 0800 this morning, Romulus has formally declared war on the Dominion.”

“They did? Why, what happened?”

The captain looked away. “It would appear that a Senator Vreenak came across a data rod with proof that the Founders had a plan to attack the Romulans, and then his shuttle was destroyed when he attempted to deliver the evidence. The data rod survived the crash; he did not.”

“The Dominion found out and tried to stop him?”

Sisko refused to meet his eyes. He steepled his hands in his lap. “That is what the Romulans believe.”

Oh. Julian gripped the back of the seat that he stood behind, recalling his discussion with Garak. He’d mentioned  _ two _ deaths. Who had the other one been? Did he even want to know? “I see,” he replied.

“They’ve already launched an offensive. Fifteen bases along the Cardassian border have been eliminated.” 

His stomach dropped, but it was followed by a surge of hope.  _ It’s worth it then,  _ Julian decided. The look on Sisko’s face was grim, but showed that he’d arrived at the same conclusion. Their eyes met in mutual understanding, but not regret. Whatever Garak had done, the Captain had full knowledge and was likely complicit. It felt strange to be in on this secret, and provided the justification for sharing another.

“Sir. There was something else I wanted to speak with you about, as well.”

Sisko waved a hand at the empty seat.

“It’s about Garak.” When the man froze, he hurried to clarify. “Not about that. At least, not directly.” A fine sheen of perspiration broke out across his forehead and under his arms, and his hands grew clammy. “I felt that you should know… that there’s more to our relationship than what we’ve allowed everyone to see.” The captain waited silently, in a way only he could. “Garak is pregnant, Sir,” Julian gushed out. 

“I’m going to need an explanation for this, Doctor.” Ben’s face was hard as stone.

“It happened while we were captured, Sir. I’ll leave out the details, unless you require them--”

“I believe you already left them out when you wrote your report for Starfleet,” Sisko interrupted in a hard tone.

“Yes. But at the time, we weren’t positive that it had taken, or if he was going to decide to keep it.”

The captain faced him straight on. “I’m not sure I believe this, Doctor Bashir.”

But instead of backing down, Julian bristled. “I can provide you with evidence if you like. If  _ not _ , you won’t be able to deny it in a few months anyway.”

“It’s yours.” Despite being declared, he recognized it for the question it was.

“Yes.”

Sisko turned his chair around to face the opposite wall, his back to Julian. He remained that way for less than a minute, then turned back. “Starfleet isn’t going to like this. The Federation won’t like this. With your genetic status, and him belonging to a race allied with the Dominion--never mind that he’s been helping us to fight against them--there is going to be backlash. Since you’re going ahead with it,” he paused to wait for a nod, which came immediately, “there will be complications. Legal. Political. Otherwise. How long are you planning on keeping this hidden?”

“I don’t know. As long as we can.”

“Doc--Julian. You want this? A child? And are you prepared to handle the ramifications of your choice?”

“Yes, Sir. I know that no one understands it, but I do love Elim. And I’m willing to face the difficulties of having a child with him.”

“Then I’ll see what I can do to help. Let me know what I can do. And I’ll make some… discreet inquiries.” He stood up, held out his hand to shake Julian’s. “And congratulations.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He left the office, feeling a little lighter than he had for some time. Somebody else knew now. It was a relief to be able to share with someone that he held in such high esteem. He looked back as the doors closed behind him. The captain was reaching for his baseball. 

=-=-=

_ Julian grabbed the gray head in both hands and twisted. The resulting crack sounded exactly like what you would expect when one bone grinds against another, and underneath was the faintest *pop.* The mouth beneath him opened in a silent “O,” and the glassy eyes lost their focus. The body went limp. _

Julian jolted awake. He still had nightmares about the battles he’d fought while caught on the Jem’Hadar ship, predominantly featuring Muhlt’s death.

Once, he’d dreamt of being in the other man’s place, and heard his  _ own  _ spine snap. 

Muhlt’s end had been a necessary death, he kept telling himself. He couldn’t think of it as murder. He was protecting Garak; the cruel Cardassian had told him what he’d planned on doing once they were alone, and Julian couldn’t allow that to happen.

Necessary death. As a doctor, the thought churned his stomach. The Hippocratic Oath demanded that first, he do no harm. But he also knew that reality didn't always function by such black and white standards. Sometimes death was kinder. When someone was dying anyway, or in unbearable pain that made life no longer worth living. And during times of war, the situation could very well be “kill or be killed.” Fair or not, death  _ happened,  _ and it was often forced. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t everyone just  _ evolve  _ into getting along? Why--

“Dear? Are you alright?”

No. Nothing was alright. Billions or even trillions of lives were at stake. The weight of the war, of the responsibilities, the knowledge, came crashing down on him, stifling his breath. 

He rolled over, grasping Garak’s shoulder and looking deep into his eyes. His heart was beating so hard it felt like a drum in his chest; he could hear it inside his ears and feel the pulse in his throat. The feeling spread as his body’s spike of adrenaline transformed panic into passion. He crammed his mouth against Garak’s, desperate for pleasure, or pain… anything that he could  _ feel _ that might annihilate his thoughts, even if only temporarily. Garak responded warmly, pushing back with nearly the same vigor, and twining his limbs with Julian’s. Everything became a jumble as they tossed together in the bed, clothing ripping and blankets being torn away. There was barely any foreplay or preparation before he was begging Elim to fuck him. 

The sharp burn as the Cardassian slammed into him erased the casualty reports. The smack of his crown against the ornate bulkhead as they rutted in concert cleared out the statistics and data. His nails digging into the scaled spine and scraping downard released the tension that had been slowly building for the past two years and gotten tucked away in a dark place that he hadn’t even acknowledged. As Garak moved inside him, he strove to forget everything except the moment. The scale-adorned body that shone silver in the starlight. The pressure of leg ridges scraping the insides of his thighs with each thrust. The salty smell of his sweat mingling with the tart-sweet musk of his Elim between their bodies.

The sounds torn from Julian’s throat were harsh and guttural, and the following orgasm that ripped through him from scalp to toenails was like passing through a black hole: engulfed by darkness while being impossibly compressed and turned inside out.

He emerged on the other side not even aware of Garak’s labored breaths or solid weight above him. The fear and doubt had been washed away in the flood of chemicals. The anger and helplessness had vaporised. All that remained was a perfect, cold clarity, with one crystalized thought: the Founders had begun the war with the purpose of imposing order, but  _ he _ was going to fight for his life, for the lives of others. And the life of his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between being sick and having family obligations, I haven't been able to do much writing in the past few weeks. I'll do my best to keep updating this and anything else on this site.


	6. Progression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers season 6, episodes 20-24, in which a lot of things happen to the other characters but aren’t incredibly relevant to Garak and Bashir, so they’re left mostly unmentioned. Anyway, our heroes are overdue for a little fluff, snark, and happier sex, so here we go.

The war and Garak’s pregnancy both progressed. Julian felt pulled in two different directions as each situation called for his complete attention, swinging him back and forth between anxiety and cautionary joy. He spent his days juggling patients, meetings, and an increasing influx of medical data from the front lines. The evenings went to dining and plotting with Garak, with an occasional drink or trip to the holosuites with a friend. He found himself starting to relate better with Miles, understanding now his obligations to and affections for his family; he stopped giving him trouble for canceled or cut-short plans when something came up. And to his utter amazement, Miles continued his association with Garak. They met once every week or two for a game of Kotra, although how it went, Julian had no idea; he wasn’t invited.

And so most evenings were spent in either Julian or Elim’s quarters, in what was becoming an increasingly domestic relationship. Garak preferred Julian’s quarters because they were much less likely to be monitored by Odo or bugged (and had better sound-proofing), and Julian preferred Garak’s because they were so much tidier and well-decorated, making him feel rather debonair. 

Julian wondered if maybe they should discuss a  _ shared _ quarters. Would that be moving too fast? He was caught in indecision. On the one hand, they’d been together--unofficially--for over 5 years. On the other hand, they’d only started being intimate a few months ago. 

It was so new and different, and yet at times it didn’t feel like all that much had changed. Sure, they shared dinner and breakfast instead of lunch, and they were learning to make room for each other’s possessions, and they had unbelievable, mind-blowing sex several nights a week… but they still exchanged literature and debated it endlessly. They still attended sporting events together. He still visited Garak at work before they walked the station and shared a table in the replimat or Quark’s. They still ribbed each other and challenged the other’s philosophies. He remembered Jadzia describing her past life as Torias Dax, and how he’d loved being married to Nilani Kahn because it meant spending every day with his best friend. Looking back, he hadn’t had that with Palis, despite being engaged to her. But here, now, with Elim… he understood.

=-=-=

Despite his constant grousing at the changes his body was undergoing, Garak seemed to enjoy the subterfuge of concealing his condition. Every morning, he painstakingly applied gray foundation to his chufa and shoulder ridges to cover the blue highlights, followed by his original grooming rituals for hair, nails, and scales. He would vainly readjust his tunics just so, commenting that he was fortunate to have a preference for that style, because they hid his weight change and had hardly any need for alterations. But no doubt his favorite part was spreading outrageous rumors about his and Julian’s time imprisoned on the Jem’Hadar ship, each story more unlikely than the last. 

Julian monitored the developments with both the practiced eye of a doctor and the sentimental eye of a loving partner. He recorded and cherished every change in skin texture or color, every pound put on, and every gripe about a cramp or aching lower back. All were signs of the rapidly growing new life inside his lover. In return, Garak complained about his incessant doting and occasional starry-eyed gazes. But Julian had a feeling that he was secretly pleased with the attention.

Despite his medical knowledge of anatomy and obstetrics, he still felt lacking in the field of Cardassians. He wanted to contact the scientists who had attended the station to install a subspace relay, Ulani Belor and Gilora Rejal, because they’d been unexpectedly genial and open-minded, but Garak forestalled him, saying that they were too accessible to monitoring by Central Command. Instead, he recommended an “old acquaintance” by the name of Kelas Parmak.

“He was Tain’s personal physician for several years. Skilled, clever, innovative. However, he was accused of… illicit connections and activities. He broke down and admitted to such during interrogation, and he was sent to a labor camp for rehabilitation.” 

Julian had an idea who the interrogator had been. “Are you sure he’d be amenable to helping out an ex-member of the Obsidian Order? Maybe  _ I  _ should contact him instead.”

Garak smiled enigmatically. “Oh, Kelas is quite the  _ forgiving _ character. And--like you, Doctor--he is unconditionally dedicated to the welfare of others.”

The decision proved fruitful. The files sent their way not only covered all facets of Cardassian reproduction, but they blended so seamlessly into Tain’s original database that Julian deduced it, too, had been amassed by Parmak. They found out that the average pregnancy lasted 10 months, with the shell forming and solidifying in the final month. After delivery, the egg would need to be incubated for a final month while the fetus completed development, specifically scale separation and formation of the teeth. 

Julian’s main concern was that while Bajorans had no trouble carrying half-Cardassian children, Cardassians commonly had difficulties carrying mixed offspring, with the most notable cases being half- Vulcan or Romulan. Because of this--and to Garak’s vexation--he conducted weekly checkups, which resulted in an unexpected quandary. Since they were still trying to keep the situation a secret, they had to use the infirmary’s private room, and reserving it so often drew attention. 

At first, Nurses Jabbara and Tagana found their weekly rendezvous to be amusing, assuming the couple was enjoying their “honeymoon” phase. Dr. Girani refrained from commenting, but Julian had a suspicion it was she who left the “All-Purpose Scale Oil: for external  _ and _ internal use” on his console. He found the whole misinterpretation fairly embarrassing, even more so when it reached Captain Sisko, who called him back in. 

“Look, I know what is going on behind the closed doors. But the rest of the staff is making noise, Doctor. I’ve had complaints about ‘lack of workplace professionalism’.” He steepled his hands. “Is there any other way for you to perform your examinations? Or have you considered making your circumstances public knowledge?”

He was saved from answering by a power outage in Ops (for once, he was thankful for those pesky voles), but the questions remained with him. How long  _ could _ they keep this under wraps? He voiced his concerns at the next appointment.

“Frankly, I’m humiliated, Julian. You say  _ everyone _ believes that we’re being explicitly intimate during these visits? I never.” Garak placed a hand over his heart. “I had no idea the minds of our fellow citizens and peers were so...  _ salacious _ .” But rather than blushing or frowning, his partner looked absolutely gleeful. “Of course, I would  _ never _ do something like that. The workplace is sacred, you know. It’s a place of duty and diligence, not depraved dalliances.”

Julian looked up from the biofunction monitor. “Elim, I’m quite aware that the moment you start using alliteration, everything out of your mouth is complete and utter rubbish.”

Garak huffed haughtily.

“Anyhow, spinal and neural development look like they’re coming along nicely. The heartbeat is strong and regular. Aaaaand… oh my god, Elim. Look at the fingers and toes!” He turned the screen to face the bed. 

Garak reached out, touching the image. Julian laughed. He took the quivering hand and spread it over the location of the fetus. “It’s right here.”

Garak sighed, shaking his head. “I still find this hard to believe. It doesn’t quite seem real yet.”

“Well, it’ll get real soon enough, believe you me. But until then, let’s make sure we’re doing everything we need to be. I recommend increasing your calcium and protein intake; calcium for shell and bone formation, protein for the muscles and scales. I can formulate a vitamin or supplement if you like. I know that the majority of a Cardassian’s protein comes from fish, but how do you get calcium? Your bodies can’t break down dairy products.”

“That would be due to our  _ resourcefulness. _ Waste not, want not. You humans leave behind a significant portion of your meals that you deem inedible, but it’s really just laziness. On  _ Cardassia _ , fish bones are ground up into a powder that is used in a variety of dishes, from bread to stew. We also consume the shells of the eggs we eat. I’m sure you’ll agree that this meets all of our calcium requirements.”

Julian didn’t appreciate the slight against his own species, but he did see the sense in the rest of what Garak said. “And how are you doing with that? Are you still having trouble with your appetite?”

“Unfortunately, I am finding many of my previously favored dishes now unpalatable. Although I can still stomach fish and eggs, so I believe there’s no need for any supplements at the moment.”

“Do you feel like you’re getting a well-rounded diet, though? Fruits, vegetables?”

Garak looked uncomfortable. “Actually, the major has been introducing me to  _ Bajoran _ cuisine at our lunches. In addition to her frozen alvas, I’ve come to appreciate ratamba stew, mesto salad, and occasionally…  _ hasperat.”  _

Julian held back a laugh at the puckered look of distaste on Garak’s face. “Well, a change in food preferences is quite common during pregnancy in  _ many _ races, so we’ve no concern there.” He made a note. “Have you noticed any other changes that you may have… neglected to mention before now?”

Garak mused to himself. He stroked one finger thoughtfully down the side of his neck as he pondered. “I  _ have _ been feeling exceedingly amorous lately.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Julian said drily, but with a sparkle in his eye. “That’s actually rather common during pregnancy,” he lectured. “Increased blood flow to the region has been known to cause a rise in libido. It’s the same with humans.”

“Oh? And have  _ you  _ been experiencing this as well?” Garak quirked an eyebrow with a downward glance at the doctor’s trousers.

“For  _ pregnant _ humans,” Julian reiterated with exasperation.

“You’re not experiencing increased blood flow to a particular region?” Garak asked lasciviously, scooting further off the edge of the biobed.

“I  _ wasn’t _ , until you began to talk about it.”

Garak slid sinuously to the ground, pressing against the doctor’s taut body, and looking entirely too pleased to be getting under his skin. “You  _ do _ like to hear me talk.” He bowed his head, looking up through his eyelashes and fluttering them twice.

“I’m _supposed_ to be--” He was cut off by a pair of hands on his waist that spun him around until his back was to the bed. Garak rose up against him, lips to his jaw and a hand plundering his hair. He moaned as the last of his professional instincts fled. He was being squashed into the hard line of the pad support. To relieve the pressure, he hopped up slightly, perching on the edge of the mattress. Leaning back and smirking, Garak calmly pressed a button. The bed flattened out and descended, halting as their hips came into alignment.

“Computer: lock door.” It was a good thing he didn’t have any other commands to issue, because Garak had claimed his mouth again, and was determined to plunder every last centimeter. His pelvis thrust between Julian’s legs, spurring the human to wrap his legs around the thickened waist. He grabbed at the blue neck ridges and began massaging them, making a mental note to paint them gray again before they left.

Garak groaned. “Dear Doctor, it occurs to me that if everyone has already concluded that we behave immorally in here, then it would be terribly rude of us to disabuse them of their notion.”

“Since when do you care about being rude?” A hand tweaked his left buttock. “Or what other people think?”

“Well, when you’re in a  _ close _ relationship with the Chief Medical Officer, you do find yourself under a certain amount of scrutiny. I wouldn’t want to make things more difficult for you by putting off your friends and colleagues.” His jacket was unzipped and pulled off.

“Ah, so having sex in the infirmary is proving everybody right, which will make them feel smug and much more congenial. You’re doing this all for me.” He bent over to nibble a particularly sensitive scale along Garak’s neck.

“I have been known to be completely selfless. I’m surprised you didn’t know this about me.” 

Hands fiddled with the bottom half of his uniform. Julian gasped as fingers “accidentally” brushed the bulge concealed inside. “You’re an absolute saint, Elim. They should build a statue in your honor.” A liquid heat settled just above the junction to his thighs as he lifted up to let his trousers and underwear be tugged down past his knees, then off altogether. He stifled any replies with bruising kisses against the cool, dry (and no doubt ready to lie) lips. They sucked and pulled with lips, tongues, and teeth, small groans accompanying pressure from wandering hands. He ran his up under Garak’s tunic, scratching lightly alone the dorsal ridges while his tongue delved into the cool mouth. He was rewarded with a low growl that he could feel reverberate in the chest against his. The normally fastidious tailor started yanking his own bottoms down as their mouths continued to stay locked. He stepped out of the garment and bruisingly gripped the tantalizing tan hips, pulling them forward until Julian nearly slipped off the bed. 

“Ah-hey!” He tipped back, catching himself with his hands on the pad. Electric jolts shot through his cock as it rubbed against the slit of the swollen  _ ajan _ . Garak took advantage of the back-leaning body to trail his mouth down from the neck to clavicle, pectoral, and finally nipple. He sucked it in, drawing a gasp from Julian, followed by a moan as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the pebbly tip. 

Garak hoisted the bare legs back up over his hips, and Julian obliged. He could feel the  _ prUt _ already beginning to evert, and he blessed the guls (or whoever Cardassians prayed to, and maybe they should have a conversation about that sometime, but not right  _ now _ ) for the increased lubrication that Garak had been experiencing over the past month. He tried to sit back up, but a clawed hand held him off. Blue eyes bored into his, drinking up the reaction as the other hand slid between them, caressing the crease down the center of his sack. He lifted it gently so that he could finish everting against the underside, and Julian thought it would be rather ironic if he died inside his own sickroom.

His eyes fluttered shut at the feel of the slickened member sliding between his cheeks. Garak’s hands moved to clutch the globes, pulling them gently apart as the  _ prUt  _ nudged forward. It teased at his entrance, darting in and out but never any further than the tip. Julian gritted his teeth. It wasn’t enough; it was too much. There were thousands of nerve endings surrounding that entrance, and they were all being teased mercilessly into a throbbing, tingling mess. As a scaled hand wrapped around his erection, he collapsed onto the bed, his arms no longer able to support him. His head spilled over the other side, stretching and baring his throat.

“ _ Zhulian, _ ” Garak murmured, overcome. He tumbled forward over the supine body, inadvertently inserting himself fully on his quest to reach the treasure ahead. 

Julian felt an explosion of heat where they were joined, and cried out just before Garak’s teeth clamped down on the tender skin above his shoulder. He grabbed two handfuls of reptilian arse and dragged the body up onto the bed with him, angling so their lengths could stretch out. Bending his knees, he planted his feet against the mattress and lifted his hips. Fireworks exploded in his vision as the ridged  _ prUt _ brushed his prostate.

“My dear, I will never get used to…  _ ah _ … how delightfully warm and tight you are,” Garak mumbled into his shoulder. He guided Julian’s legs around his waist and began a slow thrust. Using his left hand to brace himself, he trailed the right one up a silky thigh, pausing behind the kneecap, where he stroked with one digit. As fire shot through his groin, Julian wondered just when that had become an erogenous zone, and how the devil Garak had known. 

The rigid lip of Garak’s chuva scraped the length of Julian’s dick, the pressure drawing strings of pleasure through his member as they moved. The frontal and rear assaults were rapidly undoing him. To level the playing field, he raised his shoulders enough to bite down on the painted neck ridge. The makeup coating his tongue tasted abominable, but the hiss next to his more than made up for it. He gently gnawed at it with his teeth, tugging just enough for Garak to emit a strangled, “Agh!” and redouble his efforts. 

The pace picked up, and both sets of hands directed their focus from poking and prodding to simply hanging on for dear life as they gasped and grunted. Julian shifted his hips just the tiniest bit, and it was suddenly enough, as Garak cried out high and sweet, louder than he ever had before, the muscles of  _ ajan _ squeezing the human penis so tight that Julian’s vision blacked out. His release was only moments later, his cock still so compressed that he could feel every spurt of fluid that erupted into his partner.

They lay together for several minutes, panting as they struggled to catch their breaths. Beneath the heavy Cardassian body, Julian began to realize two things: as soon as he could move, he was going to call up a glass of water, because  _ damn _ were these bloody rooms dry (a medical necessity), and the patients who complained might actually be right when they said that the beds could be more comfortable.

Once they began dressing, Julian decided it was an opportune time to address their living arrangements. Garak was in an agreeable mood, and he was most likely  _ not _ expecting an ambush, so…  _ Here goes.  _ “Elim, this really was delightful, but I’d really rather keep my home life and professional life separate.” A deep breath.” So… no more shagging during duty. But.” He put a finger up. “You can have me any  _ other _ time,” he stroked the bed, “on any other furniture... if we move in together.”

Damn the Cardassian for having such a poker face. He couldn’t tell if he’d caught him off guard or not, or whether his feelings about the decision were positive, negative, or even ambivalent. He just stood there, calmly clasping the last fasters of his tunic. 

“Garak?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong. But wouldn’t we have to apply for…  _ family _ quarters?” He ran his hand down his stomach.

Julian’s heart lurched at the emphasized word. “Well, I suppose that would be prudent.”

“And what would that mean to the  _ other _ denizens of Deep Space Nine?”

He was right. It would draw attention. Looking at Garak’s midsection, he wondered how much longer this could go on. But what if Starfleet found out that he was not only sleeping with the enemy, but fathering the enemy’s child? What if someone from leftover from the Obsidian Order or with a grudge against Garak found out? 

Resigned, he pulled the man to his chest. They held each other in the silent room as doubts and fears clambered for his attention. It slowly occurred to him that if that’s what  _ he _ was dealing with, then what would be going on in Elim’s head? It was likely ten times worse. 

He stroked the black hair, not sure who it was supposed to comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why, but this chapter took me FOREVER to write. I actually finished Chapters 7, 8, and half of 9 first. But they’re not getting posted until I complete the final touches.


	7. Voices

“Garak, I’m up to my ears in kanar. Are you sure you don’t want any? I think it was good for you, helped keep the weight off. You’re looking a little rounder these days, you know? I’ll give you a discount, for old time’s sake.”

“I’m sorry to inform you, Quark, but I have found a new supplier. One who doesn’t water down his bottles. I won’t be needing your services any more. Believe me, this hurts me as much as it hurts you.”

“Well, I  _ don’t _ believe you. You don’t look like you’re hurting at all. In fact,” Quark tilted his head to one side, then the other. “You’re practically glowing. And you too, Doctor.”

Julian tried to stifle a laugh. “It must be the new skin care products we picked up. They’re um, mud masks. From Earth.” He dragged Garak away as Quark’s eyes lit up.

“Wait! Can I have the name of your provider?”

As they strolled down the promenade, Julian stole what he hoped were unobtrusive glances at his lover. Subtle changes were definitely beginning to show. He often found his eyes drawn downward as he speculated about the miracle blooming beneath the scaled gray skin, and he’d caught Garak rubbing the region more than once. Luckily, the tailor had started putting on weight everywhere, making the bulge on his front a little less noticeable. 

At night, though, they could both let their guard down. At least Julian did, and took full advantage of the intimate privacy. He’d become almost obsessive in improving his knowledge of obstetrics, and he was sure his lover was growing weary of being on the receiving end of every new lesson. His most recent fixation was sound.

“No, you may not affix headphones to my abdomen, Doctor.”

“But babies in the womb can pick up the vibrations. Music can be soothing and improve brain development.”

“We listen to music often enough already. If the sound waves are strong enough to enter my ears, surely they can enter the rest of my body as well.” A look of alarm crossed Garak’s face. “What are you doing now?”

Julian didn’t stop lifting the silky pajama top up to the plated chest. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Garak’s eyes widened comically. “Her?”

“Well, I guess that’s the way I’ve been thinking of it--the baby--recently.  _ Anyway,  _ when human babies are born, they can recognize voices they were exposed to during their development. And she hears  _ your _ voice all the time, but…” he stalled, feeling a trifle embarrassed. “Please?” When Garak looked like he was about to decline, Julian gave him a  _ look.  _ “If you say no, I’m getting the headphones.”

Garak’s lips twitched. “If you insist. But since there is no stopping this, then I implore you, please be gentle while you’re… down there.”

A certain part of his body perked up at the tone of that warm and suggestive voice, and it did  _ not _ want to be gentle. Julian mentally scolded it, but couldn’t help bending over and pressing a soft but firm kiss to the skin presented to him. The body beneath was so soft, and so warm. His lips met the flesh again, and he drew in a deep breath, reveling in the scent. Just as his tongue darted out of its own accord, he regained control and pulled back.

“You.” Guileless eyeridges lifted. “You were trying to distract me.” Laughing, he inched up and gave the devious man a quick buss on the cheek before resuming his position down below. This time, he lay his cheek on the rounded abdomen. “Hello there, little one. I have so much to tell you…”

=-=-=

Sisko called upon senior officers Bashir, O’Brian, and Worf to board the Defiant for escort duty to ensure the safe arrival of the PQ-1 convoy back to the Vegan System. It was likely to be an uneventful and long trip, but one Julian wasn’t permitted to skip out on. He fretted about what that would mean for Garak. He had every confidence in the spy’s abilities; he was a man who’d proven time and again his penchant for survival and resilience. But lately, Julian found himself keeping a closer eye on his activities, growing agitated when he couldn’t locate his partner, or didn’t hear from him in a while. He kept an eye out for danger, feeling almost threatened in wide open spaces where there were too many people and too many hiding places. He felt ashamed, but he’d even resumed monitoring the tailor shop.

The only time he could relax away from Garak was when the Cardassian shared lunch with Odo and Nerys (who had  _ finally _ begun dating). These two he trusted to be competent accomplices in the face of external threats. He wanted to pull them aside and make them promise to keep a close eye on his partner, but figured they would consider such a comment more than a little suspicious.

When the ship departed DS9, he tried to hide his feelings of trepidation about not being nearby in case of emergency, or the small chance of never returning. Garak, at least, appeared unconcerned.

To Julian’s relief, the mission went off without a hitch. 

At least, until they were headed back. A distress call from the Ruthanian sector revealed the commanding officer of the Olympia had crash-landed on an L-class planet, and they were the closest ship to her site. It would take 6 days to reach her, adding almost two weeks on to their date of return. 

His first responsibility as CMO was to make sure she would survive until rescue. It was going to be a rough ride. She only had a limited supply of tri-ox, so he’d had her diminish her doses to last longer, but by the time they reached the captain for rescue, she’d be “turning different shades of blue,” as she put it. This had the unfortunate side effect of giving her insomnia. Seeing as she was trapped alone on an unforgiving planet and in danger of a slow and painful death, Captain Sisko decided to have the crew take turns talking with her over the next week. Because she’d been out of the loop for so long, he accepted the first shift, taking the unfortunate responsibility of having to explain the Federation's clashes with both the Borg and Dominion. Julian didn’t envy him one bit.

=-=-=

The crackly voice droned in the background as Julian worked on his most recent project. He wondered vaguely if her voice sounded like someone who smoked Ferengi tobacco sticks naturally or was the result of the planet’s inhospitable atmosphere. He tried to be polite, throwing in the occasional “yes” or “uh-huh,” but the Klingon recombinant viruses he was studying were particularly tricky, and they demanded a lot of attention. He was startled away from his work on base pairs when the woman’s panicked voice broke into his concentration.

“Wait a minute. What is that? There’s something moving out there.” A suspenseful pause. “It’s getting closer,” she whispered.

He stopped working. “What? What do you see?”

“No. Stay back. Don’t hurt me.” She sounded terrified. “Please! Stay back.” She started crying. “No, don’t. NOOO!” The scream was blood curdling.

Julian leapt from his chair. “Captain Cusack! Can you hear me? Hello?”

A raspy, deep voice grated from the speakers. “ _ She’s gone. I have EATEN her _ .”

No, that couldn’t be. What creature that large would be on an L-class planet? “What?”

“ _ I’ve eaten her! What difference does that make to you? You weren’t even listening to her _ .”

His frantic heartbeat slowed, and he grimaced at his insensitivity. What a woman; he had to admire her dedication to theatrics. “You have my  _ sincere _ apologies. I got carried away with my work.”.

“I’m a patient, aren’t I? Doesn’t that make  _ me _ a part of your work?” she asked in an ill-tempered voice that he really couldn’t blame her for. 

Humbled, he sat down at a station far from the diagrams. “You’re right. You’re  _ absolutely _ right. I don’t know what I was thinking. You now have my complete attention.

A sigh came through. “Well, I’ve got news for you, doc; I’m all talked out. It’s time for  _ you _ to cheer up one of your patients and take her mind off her impending doom. Tell me something about yourself. And  _ not _ about being a doctor. Tell me something that will divert my attention.”

He knew their conversations were being recorded. But this woman on the other end of the line wanted to know about him, and so few people ever expressed any interest. Maybe… “Well, I have a…  _ friend…  _ who is expecting a baby in a few months. It wasn’t really planned. And he’s excited. But he’s also a little… petrified.”

“Hmm. A friend, huh? Well, I’d tell your friend that both of those emotions are perfectly normal, especially in that situation. So, he’s happy about all this, your friend?”

“Oh yes. He’s very much in love with the… other parent. They’ve been close friends for years, but it’s only recently that they became something more.”

“Not married, then?”

“Well, no. It’s complicated.”

Her laugh turned into a hacking cough. “Tell me when it’s  _ not _ . There’s no such thing as an uncomplicated relationship. If there aren’t any problems, it probably isn’t real.” She took a couple wheezing breaths. “What is the complication? It often isn’t as bad as it seems, when you look at it from an outside perspective.”

“Well, they’re different species, for a start.”

“That’s not such a big deal these days. For the most part.”

“And one belongs to the Federation, but the other… doesn’t.”

“There’s a simple solution to that.” Cough. “They could get married.”

It was going to be a long night.

=-=-=

He couldn't believe all that he’d shared with Lisa. His augmentation. His first struggles socializing and integrating with the crew of DS9. His fear of failure despite his successes with the Teplan blight and the Harvesters of the T’Lani and Kellerun. The stranded captain was sarcastic and blunt, but also a good listener full of sage advice. He began to look forward to their conversations. 

“I feel awful keeping you from your duties like this.” She declared, although she didn’t actually sound repentant at all.

He set down his padd. “I did manage to catch up with all my paperwork this afternoon, thank-you-very-much.”

“Let me guess,” she said wryly. “Thanks to your genetically engineered brain, you not only did  _ your _ work, you did the work of ten  _ other _ doctors at the same time.”

He sat back and propped his feet in another chair. “I'm much too humble to claim that. Anyway, I can hear that you’re in your usual  _ acerbic  _ good mood.”

“Wrong, my superhuman friend.” He felt a small coil of contentment at being called her friend. “As a matter of fact, I’m not feeling well at all. The last injection didn’t do the trick. I have this heavy pressure on my chest, and every time I move my head, the cave starts spinning.”

“That shouldn’t be happening just yet. Was the hypo damaged in any way? Or the vial?”

He heard a faint rustle, a clink, a heavy sigh. “I think the canister has a crack in it. That’s not good, is it, Doctor? No, wait, you don’t have to answer that.” She coughed, and he could hear an alarming gurgle on the back end. “Tell me more about your friend. The one who’s going to be a proud papa.”

He allowed himself a brief moment of warmth at the thought of being a “papa,” then made a note to himself to speak with Captain Sisko about Lisa’s condition as soon as their time was up. “To be honest, he’s a little concerned.” He fiddled with a blank padd as he tried to arrange his thoughts into words. And not give too much away. “You see, he’s been feeling more… aggressive lately. He jumps to conclusions. He worries an inordinate amount about his… mate, and any disasters that might befall them. Sometimes, he just wants to punch something, and that’s not at all like him.”

“Hmm. Why do you think that is?”

He drummed his fingers. “I have a theory.”

“And I have  _ plenty _ of time.” Cough.

“My friend happens to have some DNA in common with his mate, even though they’re from different planets. I can’t tell you how or why; that’s… confidential. But I thought that maybe he was picking up on the hormones, and maybe they switched something on, some genetic adaptation that triggers protective instincts.”

“That’s very scientific of you, Doctor. I suppose that could be true.” Julian smiled. Sometimes she sounded like Garak. “But there could be another reason… There’s this poem. Let me think for a minute.”

He waited patiently. Yes, definitely like Garak, using literature to make a point. He’d grown fond of Lisa.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it. It’s been a while, so I might have forgotten a line or something.

_ My love for you is an avalanche _

_ Loud and terrible and fierce _

_ It will batter the mountainside and flatten the land _

_ Just to reach the roots _

_ Where you wait _

_ I will topple anything that bars my path _

_ Shatter stones and splinter trees _

_ I will roar as loud as thunder _

_ Until all in my path flee the fury _

_ And when I am finished _

_ I will slow, collapse, and crumble _

_ A pile of broken debris _

_ Silent at your feet _

_ Frozen _

_ Jagged _

_ And rejoice” _

As the captain tried futilely to draw a full breath, he pursed his lips in thought. “That’s some provocative imagery. From Andor?”

“Colorado, actually.”

“Ah. So… what you’re saying is that…  _ love _ is making me--I mean my friend--feel violent? It’s just an emotional response to wanting to protect his mate and child?”

“Doctor, you make a lousy liar. It’s a good thing you didn’t join Starfleet Intelligence.”

“Yes, well, I actually enjoy my job as Chief Medical Officer.”

A loud sigh that might have been a faint moan came through. “But yes, that is what I was saying. It’s natural no matter what species. Have you talked to anyone about this, Mr. Chief Medical Officer?  _ Other _ than some random commander dying on a godforsaken planet?”

He growled in frustration. “You’re  _ not  _ going to die. We’ll get there, you’ll see.” He stood up and paced the room. Ran his hand through his hair. Continued pacing. “I--my friend doesn’t get along with my parents, so they’re out. And my friends--his friends.. . _ argh _ … our friends… I don’t know that they’d understand.”

“None of your friends have kids?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean… one of them has two kids. Another has had kids before.”

“So they’d probably understand,” she responded reasonably. “Then, are any of them against mixed-species marriages?”

Worf and Jadzia popped into his head. “No, definitely not.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

He fell back into his chair and stared upward. “I don’t know.”

“Hmmph. If it was up to me, I’d be honored to help your friend and his mate out. But…” She hacked loudly. “I might not get the chance to do that. And you can’t keep it hidden forever. Sooner or later,  _ everyone _ is going to find out when that baby comes. Your ‘friend’ needs to start sharing with others soon. People he trusts. People who have proven their loyalty and support, who stand by him. Does your friend know people like that?”

“Yes. Yes he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hold Captain Cusak in the highest regard. I hope I did her justice.


	8. Friends

The loss of Captain Lisa Cusak had been a blow to everyone on the Defiant. They’d all grown close to her in the brief time they’d shared. But she’d left a lasting impression. Julian noticed that each person who’d spoken with her seemed just a little bit more relaxed and reassured. She’d broken through the tension. He only wished they’d been able to make it to her in time. 

In deference to her advice, he asked Garak for permission to finally tell his friends about the baby. It wasn’t as if they’d be able to hide it forever. In addition to the darkening neck ridges and chufa, and the thickening of his waistline, his lover was starting to suffer back cramps and exhaustion in the afternoons. Enough so that they had discussed hiring Leeta back on at Garak’s Clothiers for assistance. 

They decided to break the news in two parts: Julian and his closest friends would have a cozy dinner in his new Las Vegas holosuite program, and Garak would tell Nerys and Odo over one of their weekly lunches.

Julian set up a dinner in Vic’s lounge. It would give them privacy and a nice large table that would fit the O’Briens, Worf, Dax, and Vic. Garak was initially reluctant to join them, until he realized it would mean informing everyone that they’d been completely oblivious to what had been going on under their noses, with them none the wiser.

The meal had barely begun before Julian blurted out the news. “Elim and I… are going to have a baby.”

Garak set down his cutlery and stared at the ceiling.

Jadzia’s hands flew up to her mouth. “Oh my god, Julian, congratulations! Does Ben know? Of course he knows.” She leapt out of her chair to wrap one arm around Julian, pressing her cheek to his, and the other arm around Garak, who looked stunned at the display of physical affection. She put her mouth to Julian’s ear. “I’m going to kill Ben for keeping this from me.”

Keiko smiled warmly. “That’s wonderful news!” She hit Miles. “Say something,” she muttered to him.

“Yeah! Um, congratulations! But uh… don’t you have to be married to adopt? Or in some kind of domestic partnership?” His ears turned red. “Oh no. Tell me you didn’t elope.”

Four faces looked at them expectantly. Worf continued to eat his salad.

Garak spoke up. “Chief, I’m sure you will be  _ delighted _ to know that the good doctor and I are  _ not _ enjoined. Of course, that being as it is, and me not being a member of the Federation  _ does _ mean that we are ineligible to adopt. In point of fact, this all was rather...  _ unplanned.” _ He sat back and adjusted his napkin as if that was all he planned to say.

Julian bet he was positively thrilled by everyone’s reactions as they tried to figure out just how the new arrival was going to show up. He decided to just come out with it. “Garak is expecting. A baby. He’s um… carrying an egg. And I’m the father. Well, the  _ other _ father.”

Jadzia, who was still between them, dropped down into a surprised squat.

Keiko tilted her head in thought.

Miles’ mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Vic was the first to break the silence. “Wow, then congratulations, pally.” He put one hand on Julian’s shoulder and shook firmly with the other.

Worf finally looked up from his plate. His perplexed visage flicked back and forth between them. “I do not understand how this is possible.”

Vic gave him a stern look. “Hey buddy, I’m a sentient hologram. Life pops up in all kinds of places in this crazy universe.”

Jadzia eyed the belly next to her, then smiled impishly at Garak.

“ _ No,  _ you may  _ not _ touch it.”

“Ooookay. But I want to throw a baby shower.”

“I don’t know what that is, but the answer is absolutely  _ not _ .”

Keiko jumped in, ever the voice of reason. “It can be very useful, Garak. You and your partner get ‘showered’ in gifts. It can save you a lot of money to receive items your baby will need. Remember when Ensign Vilix’pran was budding?”

“It’s Lieutenant now,” Miles interjected. Keiko rolled her eyes.

“Well, Miles built him that hatchling pond, and you made all those clothes for Julian’s order. He practically needed new quarters for the presents alone!” She beamed at the couple. “You know how much you mean to us. We’d  _ all _ be more than happy to help you out.” She elbowed Miles.

He furrowed his brow. “Sure! Just, uh, tells us what you’d like, huh? Will the egg need an incubator or somethin?”

Garak nodded. “Actually, yes, Chief. Are you volunteering to make one?”

He puffed up his cheeks. “I suppose I am.” He smiled weakly when he saw how pleased Julian looked. Keiko wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek proudly.

Jadzia returned to her seat. “So, have you come up with any names yet?”

They hadn’t even discussed names. But before Julian could say so, Garak spoke up. “Yes, we have!” He dabbed delicately at his mouth and set his napkin to the side. “Our problem, of course, is that Julian is Terran and I am Cardassian. Which language should we use? And neither of us have any family we’re fond of enough to memorialize through our offspring. So we decided to go in a completely different direction.” Everyone was listening in rapt curiosity, including Julian, who was dying to hear what his future coparent thought. “We talked for hours and hours.” Now, he regarded Garak with suspicion. No they hadn’t. “We finally agreed that we would pick a name from a race to which neither of us belonged, and that it should belong to a close friend.” He paused to let everyone glance at each other. “Someone who is brave and loyal. A hard worker. Determined.” So far, that described all of them. Keiko and Jadzia smirked at each other, picking up on the tone. “Someone who we would like to…  _ honor.”  _ Jadzia lunged for her glass and took a huge gulp of water to hide her face. “And so, if we have a son…” He drew out the suspense, reveling in the attention. “We will name him Worf.”

Everyone burst into laughter as the Klingon began to choke on his dinner.

=-=-=

It took some persuading, but eventually they convinced everyone not to tell Nerys or Odo so Julian and Garak could share the news themselves at their next lunch. It took a little more effort to prevent anyone from sharing with Leeta and Rom, but the fact was that the more people who knew, the more likely they’d be exposed, and they still wanted to keep it generally hushed around the station. That meant  _ especially _ no telling Morn. Or Quark.

Jadzia begged them to tell Nerys and Odo as soon as possible, because she and the Major had a girl’s night coming up, and there was no way that the announcement wouldn’t be discussed. Helpless against the immovable force that was Dax, they set up a lunch in their quarters with the new couple for the very next day.

Nerys had barely set down her bowl of frozen alvas before Garak requisitioned them. Julian watched fondly.

Odo cleared his throat. “So, I assume there’s a reason you requested to meet with us today.” Trust Odo not to dance around an issue.

Garak continued eating. Either he was enjoying keeping the Constable in suspense, or he was starving. Or both. Julian looked from him to the couple, not sure if it was his place to share this time around. 

Nerys dropped her shoulders and huffed. “Oh, for Prophet’s sake. Let me guess: you’re getting married.”

Odo shook his head slightly. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Based on Garak’s change in appearance and habits, my first assumption would be that he’s returning to Cardassia. When humanoids demonstrate an increase in socialization and appetite, it usually suggests good news. But I haven’t heard anything even close to that from my contacts.” He leaned forward, squinting at the innocent face across the table from him. “But something  _ is _ different.” He swiveled to Julian, who managed to regard him steadily back.

“Well, it  _ is _ good news. And quite a bit of a surprise, too. But Elim, I really feel like you should be the one to tell them.”

Garak sat up primly in his chair. “Constable, Major, I’m gravid.”

Odo leaned back and crossed his arms, while Nerys laughed. “Good one! Can you imagine?” she asked Odo, putting a hand on his knee. 

He just frowned, still squinting. “He’s wearing makeup.”

“What?”

“Garak is wearing makeup. It’s on his chufa and neck ridges.”

“So? We all know he’s a little vain.”

Odo reached out, extending his arm past humanoid length. He took a short swipe at the far edge of a ridge, by the shoulder. The scales emerged a smooth, pale blue. 

Kira looked perplexed. They could see that she was trying to come up with an explanation. “You’re not taking them seriously, are you, Odo? Garak wouldn’t just tell us the truth like that, would he?”

“Hmmph. He didn’t. He’s been hiding it for months already. Haven’t you, Garak?”

“Indeed,” he answered with a crocodilian grin. “Major, perhaps you remember how lately I’ve been showing an interest in… less  _ Cardassian _ dishes? You teased me about my cravings?”

“Yes, but…” Her brow furrowed. “A  _ baby _ ?”

Julian pulled out his padd and brought up a picture titled, “Patient 7118111” and slid it across the table. Nerys and Odo leaned over to view the 3D betagram. The major’s mouth opened in a little “O” as the baby in the video twitched, waving a stubby little arm. The beginnings of pronounced brow ridges were just beginning to show, as well as a tiny bump that might develop into a chufa. Julian was reminded of when she had carried Keiko’s baby and cooed over those betagrams as well. When she looked back up, her face had softened. “Garak, I… I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. This is… amazing.”

“Congratulations to you both,” Odo said gruffly, before turning back to the padd. He twisted his head, studying it from a new angle. 

“Major Kira,” Garak ventured, “I was hoping you could put me in touch with whoever supplies your fresh produce so that I may procure my own reserve of frozen alvas, rather than depleting yours.”

“Absolutely. In fact, why don’t you try alva nut tea, too? I couldn’t get enough of it when I was pregnant.” She chuckled. “I can get you fresh hasperat, also.”

Garak groaned. “No, please. It’s dreadful.”

“ _ Actually,  _ Nerys…” One side of Julian’s mouth quirked. “He’s rather fond of eggs…  _ and _ hasperat. How about a souffle?” He winked at her.

Charmed despite herself, she smiled. “I could make one. Maybe bring it over once a week?”

“That’d be lovely.” He patted Garak’s leg. “You’re going to get taken care of whether you like it or not.”

Odo finished rotating the betagram and returned it to Julian. “You’d better go along with it, Garak. These are two of the most stubborn humanoids we know.” His eyes smiled.

“So. Do you have any names picked out yet?” Kira looked genuinely interested.

Julian marveled at her sudden acceptance. She was truly one of the most adaptive people he knew. “Well… after the incident with Captain Cusak, I was thinking about maybe Lisa.” To his consternation, all three of his companions shook their heads.

“I’d rather not, dear. In Cardassian,  _ l’isa _ refers to a nostril.”

He was inclined to think Garak was kidding, but Odo was nodding in the affirmative.

Nerys smiled contritely. “And in Bajoran,  _ binji lisa  _ is a plant that is used… recreationally. There’s also  _ finta lisa _ , whose leaves cause an itchy rash.” 

“Humans and Cardassians both use the family name last, right?” Odo asked. “Have you decided on that?”

Julian and Elim shared a look, each silently questioning the other. Julian spoke first. “Well, since Garak is the one carrying it, I’d be fine with using his name.”

“That is an admirable sentiment, my dear. And while it would honor my mother and… father... in the Cardassian tradition, it is only a serving-class name,  _ and _ one that is associated with a certain Obsidian Order operative who was exiled.” Garak met Julian’s eyes. “I believe Bashir would be the more prudent choice. If the child is to be admitted as a Federation citizen, sharing your name would expedite the process, would it not?”

Kira gaped; she never would have predicted Garak wanting his offspring to join the Federation. But Odo was in agreement. “It makes sense. With Dr. Bashir on the birth certificate, the child would automatically be accepted. Although.” He tapped the table in thought. “Have you considered a Cardassian version of the doctor’s last name?” He gave Garak a frank stare. “Isn’t _ [ba'ssheer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949294/chapters/60389701) _ a term of endearment? Kind of like how the Federaji say ‘dear’?”

Julian’s head whipped back to Garak, who appeared to be trying to melt the changeling with his glare. Odo smirked and remained unapologetically solid.

“Actually, the literal translation of  _ ba’ssheer _ is ‘treasure,’” Garak commented dryly.

Kira opened her mouth in a wide grin. “That is actually… incredibly romantic. I’m going to have to tell Jadzia; she’ll  _ love _ it.”

Odo’s smile turned down. “How many people know about this?”

Julian did a quick count. “Including you two, eight. That is, if they haven’t told anyone else yet.”

“I suppose it goes without saying that we won’t be filling in Quark or Morn for the time being. Though Quark will be quick to pick up on the fact that there’s something going on.” His eyes twinkled. “I suppose I’ll just have to find a way to keep him distracted.”

As the major and constable drew into an energetic discussion of possible schemes to keep the bartender on his toes, Julian scooted his chair closer to Garak. “Were you ever going to tell me, my  _ dear  _ tailor?”

“Tell you what?”

He kissed the gray cheek. “Is it true, Elim? Am I your treasure?”

“I’m not the sentimental type, my good doctor. Words have whatever meaning you give them.”

But underneath the table, a hand squeezed his thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I REALLY wanted to include more Vic. If I produce the third installment of Prisoners to Parents, he’s going to have a much larger part (and maybe even a love interest).  
> \- “Betagram” is my term for whatever technology they invent in the future that’s an improvement on the sonogram/ultrasound.  
> \- Okay, so Julian’s code was a little juvenile. But I liked the number.


	9. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff. But next chapter covers “Tears of the Prophets,” so there’s plenty of drama and angst on the way.

Now that their friends were aware of the situation, there was nothing to hold them back from moving in together in family quarters. Julian still couldn’t believe how easily Elim had acquiesced. And he was endlessly pleased at how dedicated his mate was to decorating for the baby. The nursery was the first room they set up, after the main living space. Since infant Cardassians couldn’t regulate their body temperatures as well as their elders, a heat lamp came first. Elim purchased wall hangings that diminished the austerity of the architecture and even gathered a collection of thick carpets through Quark. Julian’s contribution consisted mainly of plush animals, which he couldn’t seem to stop buying; they were all so cute, and could be deemed educational, if you considered they represented life from all over the galaxy. Characters soon decorated the shelving, the tops of the wardrobe, and the space where the incubator would sit. But Elim drew the line as soon as they began to make their way into _other_ rooms.

Their own room--their own room!--only featured a bed for the time being. It was a good thing the quarters came with built-in closets and drawers. However, their bed was a previously-unknown luxury for both of them, almost triple the size they were used to. They christened it almost immediately upon arrival, before the sheets were even placed.

Despite claiming that Cardassians had no need for such frivolous furniture, Julian often returned home after late shifts to find his roommate sprawled out on his back, limbs akimbo like a starfish, snoring peacefully. He usually nudged and tugged until there was room for him to cuddle in too, but occasionally he’d leave him to his rest and stop by Quark’s.

=-=-=

Keiko was under a lot of pressure to complete her preliminary analysis of the interactions between Bajoran flora and invasive Cardassian species that had been introduced during the Occupation. According to Miles, her deadline was approaching and she was elbow deep in data tables, diagrams, and field notes, which meant that she’d been absolutely no fun for the past three days. To top it off, he and Julian hadn’t been able to fit in a holosuite appointment, so they had to resort to their fallback of darts and drinks. Julian wondered if there was something more bothering him, though, because he’d had more than his usual share of drinks, supplementing synthale with occasional shots of whiskey from a hip flask. 

“So… Chief. What do you think I should tell my parents about all this?” Julian hoped this would be a safe topic to start off with.

“Jaysus, Julian, you haven’t told them yet?”

“Well, _Miles_ , things are a little tense, aren’t they, after that whole debacle with the LMH. My father is still incarcerated, and my mother has gone to live with my aunt. We barely talked at all _before_ that, and now...” Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all. “Forget it. I’ll figure something out. Or maybe I’ll just wait until after the baby’s born and send home a Christmas holo-card with a picture.” 

“Oh, that’s sure ta go over well. Here’s me and my lizard boyfriend and by the way, we’ve got a kid. Tryna give them a heart attack?”

Julian smothered a grin. He couldn’t help picturing a forest green frame decorated with holly leaves and snowflakes, encircling the three of them in matching red sweaters. Unwillingly, he burst out laughing.

“Don’ see what’s so funny,” Miles grumbled into his glass. He took a hardy gulp and set it down with a thump. “Startin’ a family with a bloody spoonhead, what’re ya _thinkin?_ ”

Julian’s head shot up, the evening’s pleasant buzz immediately dissipating. “Now watch your mouth. I won’t have you talking that way about-- about my… my…”

“You don’t even know what to call him, do ya? Yer not dating, yer not married, but yer livin’ together. You weren’t even officially together ‘fore ya knocked ‘im up.”

Julian glared at him, tempted to leave. “Not everything needs a label, Miles. We’re happy with what we have now. Why can’t we just take it a day at a time?”

“Is that whatcha want, Julian? Is that what he wants? How do you even _know_ what he really wants? Or feels? Everything the man says is a lie.”

This had been building for a while, it seemed. He knew how the Irishman felt about Cardassians in general after the battle of Setlik III, and about Garak in particular being an exile and a spy. But he’d hoped that by now, he’d let go of some of the animosity. 

“I’m serious, Julian. How can you be shacked up with someone who fibs as easily as he breathes?”

“Look, I know that Elim has a… complicated relationship with what you and I consider facts. He just… sees things differently. But if you listen carefully, you can usually figure out what he _means_ , even if he doesn’t say it straight out.” He turned on his stool to command Miles’ attention. “ I want you to think about something. What does Elim say about the Federation?”

“That’s it’s stupid and idealistic, and it’ll never last. He puts it down at every opportunity.”

Julian leveled a stare at him, waiting. Nothing. “So… if everything he says is a lie, then…” 

The wheels turned. The mouth frowned. 

Quark interrupted. “Any more drinks, gentleman? Chief, I hope you know there’s a fee for bringing in your own beverages.” Miles made what Julian knew was a rude gesture, but the Ferengi remained oblivious, or ignored it. “More synthale?”

Julian slid his glass over. “Fill’er up. But this is my last one.”

As Quark poured, he studied both men. “You two don’t argue much, so I’m gonna venture a guess that this has something to do with Garak.” He nodded knowingly at their expressions and handed back the synthale. “I know something’s going on. Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll help you out?”

Julian wanted to trust Quark. He might have gold-pressed latinum where a heart should be, but he did care in his own way. Sometimes. Well, what was it Garak had said? A partial truth is the best lie. Julian put on his most aggrieved face. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I moved in with a Cardassian. The Chief and I don’t agree with how to go about it.”

Quark shook his head, tsking. “I don’t believe that’s what you’re upset about for one second. But lucky for you, I don’t care! Because I know how you should tell them. Buy ‘em a gift. You know, to butter them up. But something expensive, maybe Cardassian. It’ll make them a little more open to the idea. I just got in a shipment of sand clocks from the Bay of Kinar. The only place in the quadrant with red obsidian beaches.”

“Pfft.” Miles made a face. “He doesn’t want some froufrou hourglass.”

“ _Actually_ , Quark, I think that’s a grand idea.” And Julian did. His mother would absolutely adore it. “I’ll come back tomorrow to hash out the details. For now though,” he rose, “I think the Chief and I are going to turn in. C’mon, Miles, let’s get you home.”

His friend was unusually quiet on the trip to his quarters. But when they stopped at the door, he turned. “Didja know that Keiko had Nerys and Garak over here for lunch the other day?”

“No, he neglected to mention it.” 

“They, ah, I think they wanted to share pregnancy stories. Y’know, girl talk. Garak looked really un-uncomfortable.” That would explain why he hadn’t said anything about it. “But then they started talkin’ baby clothes, and the next thing I know, Keiko’s orderin’ a whole new wardrobe for the family.” He frowned. “I don’t know how he does it. Charmin’ everybody.” He put a hand against the wall, and used the other to rub at his forehead. “Sure charmed _you_ , didn’t he?” 

Julian crossed his arms. “I’m not a child, Miles. In the beginning, I might have been… _naive_ and _seduced_ by the mystery and intrigue surrounding Garak. But now it’s more than that. It has been for quite a while. And frankly, I wish you respected me enough to trust my judgement.”

That straightened the chief up. Miles dropped his jaw. “Aw Julian, I _do_ respect ya; I’m just worried he’s takin’ advantage of ya.”

A frustrated growl escaped Julian’s throat. “ _Agh_ . Miles, he’s carrying my baby. Did it ever occur to you that I could have taken advantage of _him_?”

Miles squinched up his face. “Now yer making my head hurt.”

“Seriously. Look at me. Thanks to my _genetic engineering_ , I’m smarter, stronger, and faster than average.”

“And more modest,” the other man retorted.

“My god, man, when we were taken by the Jem’Hadar ship, I fought two full-grown, Cardassian soldiers. I _killed_ one. With my bare hands. No bat’leth, no phaser. And you’ve _seen_ what I can do with medicine and diseases when I put my mind to it. After all that, do you really think that I’m too weak and too witless to hold my own with him?”

“No, no I don’t. Maybe he’s finally met his match.”

=-=-=

Jadzia’s parties were legendary, and this one was no exception. With Quark off the station for a solid two weeks, the festivities began with dinner in a holosuite. But not in Vic’s club as Julian had expected. The retinue instead entered Holosuite One, where they found themselves on the deck of a large wooden schooner, floating peacefully on Earth’s Atlantic Ocean. The food was set out buffet-style on the aptly named party deck, although guests were free to lounge about wherever they chose, including the saloon below deck. 

Garak was effusive in his praise to the Trill. “May I congratulate you on your ingenuity and dedication to detail, my dear. The proliferation of sea food was most appreciated, and the sun on my scales has been quite soothing. This must _also_ be the first celebration that I have witnessed on an ancient vessel of any kind--much less a Terran one--and most _definitely_ the first that required preventative nausea medication for all participants. 

“Well, I do hope you’ll _treasure_ the experience,” she teased. “Just you wait until you get your present from me later.” She winked and disappeared before he could get in a last word.

Sure enough, when the party relocated to their quarters after the meal, the first thing they noticed was Jadzia’s present, taking up most of the coffee table.

“Why did Lieutenant Commander Dax give us a wooden trunk?”

Julian chuckled. “It’s a _treasure_ chest.” He pointed to an engraved metal plate below the lock. “For the _Ba’ssheer_ family.” An upwelling of emotion suffused him. “Do you remember… back when you first introduced yourself to me, and you said ‘It’s Doctor Ba-sheer, isn’t it?’ Were you purposely pronouncing my name in the Cardassian way?” He dropped his voice. “Was I your treasure even then?”

“Did I really say it that way? I don’t recall.” He groaned. “They’re never going to let me live this down are they?”

Molly popped up behind them. “It’s time for your next present!” But instead of handing them a package, she waved for them to follow her. They trailed behind her into the nursery, which had undergone a mild transformation. 

Filling the previously empty section of the room was an incubator/crib combo of original O’Brien design. One side contained a small, raised sandbox beneath a heat lamp for the egg to reside in. The other appeared to be only 4 poles with a mattress between them that could be set at various heights. But Molly delightedly demonstrated that the space between the posts was filled by a gentle forcefield. 

“No chance of limbs getting caught between slats, or smothering against glass walls,” Miles proclaimed proudly. “And the sand bin has an easy drain right here, so it can be changed out regularly, or emptied when the time comes, so you can use it for a changing table.”

Julian set to examining it straight away while Garak sketched a small bow. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. The level of craftsmanship you put into your work is nothing short of astounding. Might I take a closer look?”

“Go right ahead.”

Garak moved the contraption away from the wall to access the back side, where he went to work removing an access panel to examine the inner workings.

Miles stepped over to Julian, and whispered under his breath. “So if he says he likes it, does that mean he really hates it?”

Keiko overheard and swatted him. “Behave yourself.” She bent down to heft a rather large box that had been sitting beside the crib for the next gift. “ _This_ one’s from me.”

Since Garak was still busy, Julian went ahead. Inside the box was a whole collection of learning materials and toys, from building blocks to educational data rods to actual flash cards and books. While many of the items looked familiar from his own childhood on Earth, other items were decidedly foreign.

“Some of these are Cardassian and Bajoran. I thought you’d like the baby’s education to be well-rounded.”

Julian beamed. “Of course! This is wonderful, Keiko. Thank you.” He gave her a full hug, absurdly pleased by the fond patting she gave his back.

The crew made their way back into the living room, where they found Odo dangling a large mobile for the perusal of the other guests. Jadzia, Leeta, and Nerys were examining it with delight.

“Doctor, Garak, I… wasn’t sure where to put this. I’ve discovered that many cultures like to hang… _things_ for infants to ogle, although the purpose is unclear.” He cleared his throat. “As an immature changeling, Dr. Mora exposed me to many different materials, which I found endlessly fascinating and eventually began to emulate. I doubt your offspring will experience the same… perceptions, but, well.” He held up the contraption. “This is assembled from parts of the sculptures in my quarters. I hope you find it adequate.”

Julian was floored. “Odo, you _made_ your gift? That’s, well… I’m flattered.”

Jadzia looked up from where she was kneeling by the bottom of the mobile. “It’s a one-of-a-kind changeling original. I wonder how many kids can say they received a hand-made present from a _god?”_

Odo rolled his eyes. “I’m _not_ a god.”

Captain Sisko stepped forward. “Here. I can take that to the other room. I’ll have Ops transport me some tools and get it hung up _right_ away.”

Garak nodded graciously to Odo. “We are deeply honored by your gift. And may I once again extend my gratitude to you, Constable, for making sure the Quark was… _occupied_ this week.”

“It was Nerys’ idea, actually. We sent that meddling Ferengi on a treasure hunt,” Odo replied with his customary smirk. He placed an arm around his lover’s waist as Garak rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll appreciate the major’s gift, as well.”

She gave Odo a warm smile before untangling herself to retrieve a decoration that had been sitting in the corner. It looked to Julian like a vase full of red-leafed branches. But Elim looked impressed. “Why Major, wherever did you find a [ jogand ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949294/chapters/60389701)?”

“I have my sources,” she replied, handing it over. Julian was beginning to think he should take a gander through that storage bay himself, now.

Elim sat the container on the floor. He pulled the sticks apart to draw attention to the center one, which was noticeably thicker and taller, and pocked with holes. “The jogand is for measuring children. Each year, at their birthday, they stand next to the tree and a new branch is added at their height. Thank you, Nerys.” 

Julian was busy studying the decoration, but he caught the use of Kira’s first name and awarded his mate a smile for making the effort. “Where shall we put it? The living room or the nursery?”

“There’s a perfect spot for it in the baby’s room.” He stood up to take it there, then hissed in pain, grabbing at his back. 

Julian jumped up. “Are you alright?”

Garak waved him away. “I’m fine, fine. Just a muscle spasm. All too common, these days.”

Kira took the jogand back out of his hands, grinning wickedly. “You know… when I was pregnant, the chief gave me some _sublime_ back massages. I could talk to him for you.”

Garak looked aggrieved. “And just when I was beginning to like you, Major.”

She wrinkled her nose and snorted. “I’ll put this in the nursery. You stay here and open the rest of your presents.”

The next item came from Leeta, Rom, and Nog: a Ferengi rain box. The 12-cm cube had 3 screened sides and a speaker on top. Each side had a customizable noise display; one side was rain sounds, from trickles to glibbening; the second side was thunder; and the last was for surfaces like stone, vegetation, and tile roof.

Nog was excited to share everything about it. “I had one of these when I was little. Grand-Moogie gave it to me. Let’s see if I can get it… _”_ he fiddled with the slide controls on the screens, stopping to listen, then adjusted again. “ _There_. That sounds just like a rainstorm outside my window back home.” He smiled at his audience. “These are very popular with Ferengi who are traveling and homesick. It’s very soothing.”

Leeta nodded. “I use one all the time.” She leaned in conspiratorially and winked. “It also makes good _cover noise_ when you need a little privacy. Turning up the volume on the thunder _especially_ works with growling.”

“Ahhh!” Nog covered his ears, while Rom ducked his head and giggled nervously.

After the family moved on, Julian sat back to rest for a minute and pulled Garak closer to his side. “I didn’t know Leeta was coming. How did she find out about this?”

“When she was organizing the back room, she came across my pile of Cardassian baby clothes. If you don’t take into account her taste in romantic partners, she’s actually a rather intelligent young lady.”

Julian elbowed him. “Har har.” He poked Garak’s shoulder. “And no fair that she got to see them before me. Do you think, is she the one who told Rom and Nog?”

“I believe it was young Jake Sisko who told Nog. Either one of them could have told Rom. I heard that Quark found out their whole family had successfully hidden something from him and isn't speaking to any of them right now.”

The rest of the party passed by pleasantly but uneventfully, with a few presents left over when the guests made their ways home. In the quiet that settled over the quarters, Julian and Garak opened the remaining gifts: a data rod from Benjamin entitled, “Space Age Parenting Made Easy: from Broken Replicators to Dad Jokes,” and an infant travel seat from Kasidy. 

“What are Dad Jokes?”

Julia laughed and tried to explain as they cleaned up. He filled his arms with the pile of items that needed to be relocated to the nursery, where he spent the next half hour trying to put away and place everything. When it occurred to him that he hadn’t heard from his partner in some time, he checked back into the other room.

Garak had argued against installing a large sofa. He claimed that it wasn’t very Cardassian to own something so plush. But staring at the blanketed, peaceful, obviously comfortable form snuggled into that particular item of furniture, Julian was glad he’d gone ahead with it anyway. He plumped the pillow under Garak’s head, then lifted the cover to tuck another pillow between his knees for support. Patting a foot fondly, he headed for the refresher.

After coming out and putting on a pair of light pajamas, he stared down at the empty bed. Shaking his head ruefully, but smiling, he grabbed the comforter and tossed it over his shoulder. Back in the living room, he spread it out on the carpet alongside the couch, plopping one last pillow at the end. He settled down, wrapping the other half of the blanket over his body. Listening to the soft snores and smelling the sweet but musky odor of a very pregnant and exhausted Cardassian, he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * There’s a story behind the present from Major Kira. In real life, Nana Visitor and Siddig El Fadil had a child during the filming of DS9. His name is Django, so I made an anagram of the name, which became the ‘jogand’ that she gifted Julian.  
> * The Ferengi rain box was inspired by this: https://mynoise.net/NoiseMachines/rainNoiseGenerator.php  
> * The next chapter has taken me months, and it's still not finished yet. It'll probably be a while before it goes up.


	10. Departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 and 11 were originally one chapter, but it was getting to be longer than all the others, and I wanted to finally post an update on this fic to show I haven’t forgotten about it. So this covers only the first half of 6x26 (Tears of the Prophets).

Quark bustled about his bar, relocating bottles, wiping already-clean counters, and slamming things down. Julian knew that if he continued to ignore the irritated Ferengi, it’d only get worse. “Alright Quark, I give. What’s bothering you?”

Quark stalked to the counter, leaning on his hands to get in Julian’s face. “What’s bothering me? I spent 2 weeks--2 weeks!--chasing all over the quadrant for Gonkgonian crystals, only to find they’re not a real thing! I left Rom in charge of the bar, and _he_ decided to institute a happy hour with discounts. Discounts! Can you believe it? So not only did I _not_ find any crystals, but I didn’t even make as much profit as I normally do!” He dropped back down. “And to top it _all_ off, I canceled my appointment for a tympanic tickle to go on that hunt.”

“A tymp--never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Quark scowled at him. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a tympanic tickle? Or even oo-mox?” He winced. “My lobes are starting to itch. If I don’t get a little action soon, they’re liable to fall off.” He let out a disgusted sigh. “That’s the last time I listen to Odo.” Julian decided not to mention how many times the Ferengi had said that. “I should have remembered the 53rd Rule of Acquisition: Never trust anybody taller than you.”

Julian barked out a laugh. “That’s everybody on this station.”

Quark leveled a glare at him. “ _Exactly.”_ A beeping alarm sounded from the console behind him. “Worf and Jadzia are _still_ in that holosuite? Their appointment ended a quarter hour ago. At least that means I can charge them double for overtime.” 

“That’s why I’m waiting out _here_ instead of virtually attending the latest Nanites in Medicine convention _in there_ ,” Julian reminded him.

Quark examined his box of data rods. “Nanites huh? Are they worth investing in?”

Julian was saved from answering by the arrival of the black-clad couple descending the stairs and heading in their direction. “Finally! I’ve been waiting 20 minutes for you to get out of that holosuite.” He looked them up and down, noticing the immaculate state of their hair, skin, postures, and clothes. “What were you doing up there? You were supposed to be exercising, but I don’t see any sweat. Where are all the bruises? The--the broken bones, the blood?”

“We were talking,” Worf said solemnly.

“For an hour and 45 minutes?” Quark asked disbelievingly. He held out his box for the return of the data rod.

Worf glowered. “It is a private matter.”

Jadzia, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “We’re thinking about having a baby.”

“It _was_ a private matter.” But Worf didn’t seem terribly put out. He sighed at his _par’Mach’kai_ with fond exasperation until he was called away to Ops.

At the lack of response from the other two gentlemen, Jadzia commented, “Well, you two are awfully quiet.”

Julian sat down, feeling awful. “Look, I-I-I don’t want to dampen your spirits, Jadzia, but I told you before you were married that from a medical point of view, it wouldn’t be easy for a Trill and a Klingon to have a child.” Even though both species were humanoid, their physiologies were fairly different. Few of their neurotransmitters were incompatible, and their bodies suited to different climates. Klingons had nearly double the number of organs as Trills, and Trills contained a pouch and biochemical signatures completely unique to their world. It was likely that Jadzia and Worf would never be able to conceive naturally, and Julian hadn’t yet found an answer through medical intervention.

Of course, Quark had to throw in his own two strips. “I’m just worried the kid’ll turn out to look like his father.”

“Well, I hope _she_ does,” Jadzia sniffed at him, and stormed off.

Quark returned to his work, and Julian studied his drink. It didn’t seem fair, really. He’d never even thought about having kids, and here he was with one on the way. And with an ally to the enemy, no less. Then there was Jadzia and Worf, a married couple who’d spent months discussing their relationship and future, coming to the conclusion that they wanted a child… and would probably never attain that goal. He spun his glass back and forth in thought. Maybe if he put his mind to it--and found the time--he could formulate a solution. What if…? 

He shoved the drink away and rushed off to the infirmary.

=-=-=

It came with more of a sense of relief than trepidation when Starfleet finally announced its plan to launch an offensive against the Dominion. Win or lose, at least the wait was over, the torturous suspense coming to an end. It wasn’t surprising, either, that they selected Captain Sisko to spearhead the effort; after all, his station guarded the wormhole and was the closest installation to Cardassia, and he had made several overtures on the topic to Command, slowly garnering support. He selected his crew, electing to leave Julian and Jadzia as the two senior officers to hold down the fort while he was gone.

The arrival of the Klingon and Romulan fleets bolstered Starfleet’s depleted numbers, ships of every type filling the space around the station and visible from every window. The tension began to build, and soon it felt like every conversation was centered on the pending attack. 

For once, Julian was grateful that the infirmary had no viewports. He’d just finished double-checking the emergency medical kits that Dr. Girani would be taking on the Defiant when Garak swept into the room.

“Elim! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” He tried to refrain from letting any panic through in his voice, knowing it would just needle his visitor.

“Everything is just fine, dear.” Garak smoothed his hands over his tunic nervously. “I’m here by Captain’s orders. He is requiring an… ‘all clear’ on my health. Seeing as you check on me every day, it certainly isn’t necessary for you to perform yet another exam. Could you just send a note his way? It’d be most appreciated.”

“What--Why would the Captain…” A wave of cold washed down his spine.

“I’ve been offered the chance to join the fleet in their attempt to liberate my homeworld,” Garak said quietly. “They need my code-breaking skills and insight into the Cardassian mind.” He put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I accepted.”

Julian mutely shook his head, trying to process what he’d heard. He felt dizzy, and there was a knot in his stomach. “You can’t _possibly_ be thinking about leaving now!” he burst out before he could stop himself. “Elim,” he whispered fiercely, “you’re carrying a _baby_.”

Garak’s eyes hardened. “Don’t you think I _know_ that?” he spat. “I can’t exactly forget it, what with it pressing on my back and my bladder and causing horrible cramping at least once a day, and completely altering my moods and eating preferences, and oh, let’s not forget, I’m living in completely new quarters that include a _nursery._ Yes, _D_ _octor,_ I’m perfectly aware that I’m carrying a baby.”

“But you could _die_ , Elim!” Julian yelled back. “You both could! What are you doing, risking that?”

“I’m doing exactly what I should: risking _everything_ to save Cardassia. It’s no more than any other citizen would do, you know that. What is _my_ life measured against the greater good of an entire _planet_?” 

Julian sagged. “I don’t want to lose you, Elim. Either of you. Not when we’re just starting to build a life together.”

“It’s not about you,” Garak replied, lowering his voice to reduce the sting. “And it’s not about me.”

Julian wrapped himself around Garak, holding on as if he never intended to let go, and dipped to touch brow to chufa. They both stood there for a short time, breathing each other in and trying to find the right words to say.

Garak broke the silence. “Dearest, I don’t want you to walk me to the gate tomorrow.”

“No, why?”

“Because Starfleet has issued special uniforms just for this occasion, and they’re absolutely hideous. You should see what they do to the Chief’s skin tone. And as an adjunct, they’re requiring me to wear one, too. It’s better that you don’t submit yourself to such an unseemly goodbye.”

Julian sniffled and laughed softly. “Why else?”

“Because you’ll try to convince me to stay, and I’ll leave anyway, and I can’t bear to break your heart again.”

=-=-=

Ben, Jake, Miles, Nerys, Worf, Nog, Elim.

The litany played over and over in his head. He wondered how Captain Sisko felt, going into war with his son at his side. He tried not to think too much about what part Garak would play, about how much danger they’d all be in while leading the attack. 

In an effort to distract himself, and to focus on something positive, he called Jadzia to go for a stroll along the upper promenade while they waited for news to arrive from the front lines.

She arrived at her usual brisk pace, but took one look at his face and gave him a tight hug. “Hey you.” They held each other, almost rocking for a second before stepping apart. The Trill shook her head, face rebuking. “Look at you, playing hooky already. Miles told me to keep you out of trouble, you know.”

“I’d say I’ve found plenty already! Enough to last me a lifetime, and then some.” He put his hands on his hips. “Anyway, what a fine example _you’re_ setting, shirking your own command duties.”

She punched his shoulder and he grabbed it, pretending to be hurt. Feeling a little lighter, they set to walking along the walkway. Maybe this would be a good time to tell Jadzia what he’d discovered. He stopped and waited for her to face him. “I wanted to tell you something,” he said, trying to summon up a smile.

“I already know you’re in love with me,” she teased. “But I just don’t think your quarters are big enough for you and Garak _and_ me and Worf.”

He rolled his eyes fondly. “ _Actually…_ according to the DNA scans I did this morning, the ovarian resequencing enzymes I gave you… appear to be working,” he proudly proclaimed. It felt so satisfying to deliver a bit of good news amongst all this.

“You mean, Worf and I can have a baby?”

“It certainly looks that way.” Jadzia’s face lit up as he continued. “I must say, I didn’t expect such positive results so early. It’s quite amazing, actually.”

Jadzia attacked him with an ebullient hug. “Oh, thank you Julian!”

“It’s all part of being a doctor,” he replied, reveling in the warm glow of his friend’s elation as she lowered her arms but continued holding his hands.

“Oh no, it’s more than that,” Jadzia gushed. “You’re a good friend. You always have been.”

“And I always _will_ be,” he assured her.

“I better get back to work,” the Trill said. “But first, I’m going to stop by the Bajoran shrine. Kira said a prayer for me and Worf last night. She told the Prophets how much we wanted a baby.” 

“Well, I’d say they’ve been listening. That is, if you believe in the Prophets.”

“Oh, well, I do today!” Jadzia grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you come along with me? I’ll say a thank you for my good news, and you can say something about you and Garak. You know, how you’re looking forward to the baby, or maybe ask them to watch over the ship.” She tilted her head. “Although they _are_ with the Emissary, so I’m sure everything will be alright, if the Prophets have anything to say about it.”

He hesitated. Even though he occasionally swore by the Prophets, he wasn’t at all sure what he thought of them. But still, it couldn’t hurt. “Alright, let’s go!”

< _Jabara to Bashir. You’re needed in the infirmary. Emergency: third degree plasma burns in lungs. > _

He tapped his badge. “I’ll be right there.” Turning to Jadzia, he grinned regretfully. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurried off, waving jauntily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Next chapter is the second half of "Tears of the Prophets," and the title is "Tears," so no, I did not change the outcome.  
> I'm also going to go back through the entire fic and iron out a few rough spots, but nothing major should change.


End file.
